I have mixed emotions about this...
Mostly, I'm disappointed. I couldn't do it. I couldn't breastfeed for a full year. I failed again. Silly me thought it would be SO easy to do since I would be home this time. We only made it nine months. Maybe it was a mistake to start pumping? Maybe I wasn't pumping long enough or often enough? One day I was pumping my normal amount, and the next I could barely pump six ounces.
I'm angry. I would have liked to stop breastfeeding on my terms, but I didn't have that opportunity with either of my children. I tried to increase my supply. I took a sickening amount of Fenugreek and pumped longer and more often, and it didn't help.
I feel guilty. I didn't have the same breastfeeding relationship with Parker that I did with Lucy. I worked full-time when Lucy was a baby; she was attached to my boob from the moment I walked in the door every night. It was how we bonded. But since I've been home with Parker, we've bonded in other ways. Breastfeeding was hard for us with Lucy running around; Parker was SO distracted. We had to go in a separate room, leave Lucy unsupervised, and rush through it.
I'm annoyed that I have to start watching what I eat. I've had the appetite of a 400 pound man for the last three years, and I've created some bad habits. I'm also annoyed that we have to spend money on formula.
I feel sad that that phase of our life is over. We literally threw away the baby bath tub last week, and now we're done breastfeeding. My babies are growing up. It's surreal.
There is a bright side, though. I don't have to drag that stupid pump to work with me anymore or choke down all those Fenugreek pills. I don't have to worry about pumping enough for whoever is watching the kids when I go to work or out with Casey and friends. And for the love of God, I can drink a