Breastfeeding's Final Thoughts: A %$#@*&#!! Pain in the Ass

Well folks, we've made it six months as the sole gravy train and it's time to get off.

On October 17th, Sydney's six month birthday, we celebrated by feeding her "solid food" for the first time. By the time we got around to doing it, she'd fallen soundly asleep. My husband suggested that perhaps we wait for another day, but I was adamant. "Today's the day! We're starting her on real food today!"

"Real" is subjective, and "solid" is kind of a misnomer, as the resulting mush made by the rice and milk was hardly less liquid than what she usually gets. We woke her up, fully expecting a false start, but she gobbled it up, as if she too were eager to get on with this new concept. That night she slept hard and fast, a phenomenon that has disappeared recently with the arrival of teeth.

And with the introduction of food, solid or not, a huge weight has suddenly been lifted from my shoulders. For one thing, I no longer have to rush home from a full day at work to feed a hungry baby. For another, it means that this whole breastfeeding thing will soon be over.

Me and Sydney have been feeding this way for all of her life and sometimes, in the evenings when I put her to sleep this way, I get nostalgic and realize that, five or ten or fifteen years from now I'll try to remember these moments and won't be able to fully recall them. But during the day when I am frantically answering phone calls, racing to meetings and oh by the way, stepping out for twenty minutes three times a day to pump myself dry, I find myself counting the days.

Especially on those days when I forget a vital piece of the pump and have to either jerry-rig the thing or go out to buy new pieces, in between those phone calls, meetings, etc. Or in the mornings when I have to wash and sterilize the various portions before I can leave. Or those days when we are out on the road and invariably Sydney becomes hungry and we have to pull over and feed her, adding twenty minutes to our commute. Or those days when she wakes up every twenty minutes and is ravenously hungry all night.

You know, most days.

My final thoughts on the matter? The bottom line is that feeding a baby is inconvenient, period. But when you decide to breastfeed, it's all on you. Dad can't help unless you pump, and pumping is time consuming, annoying and and in general a pain in the butt. Breast feeding activists are lying when they say that breastfeeding is more convenient than formula feeding. It may be true for a select few, but for those of us who are rushing around trying to live our lives and have jobs and families too it simply isn't true. It may be better for baby and mother, but better doesn't mean formula is bad. Take it from a breastfeeding mother, you are not a bad person if you decide not to put up with what I have for six months. It can be done (I did it) but it doesn't have to be, and don't let anyone make you think otherwise.

That being said, am I glad I did it? Yes-- I like a good challenge. And experience is always a good thing. Life is short and can't be replayed. On the other hand we're about to move on to a new and exciting challenge--keeping up with a crawling baby. One challenge at a time is enough for me.