My secret (total mommy-blog time)

Here's my dirty secret, while I wait to make sure that Spencer is fully asleep so I can go back to sleep:

I hate breastfeeding. At first it was because I wasn't exactly doing it right and he was hurting me. In the past six weeks I've really tried to like it. I know of all the benefits for him and for me; I certainly know how much cheaper it is. And I'm not going to stop any time soon -- I enjoy those benefits too much that it outways the other things.

But my main problem is that it still hurts. It's not because of what I'm doing, but Spencer ... he's impatient, and I don't know if it's because it takes a minute for my milk to let down or because he wants it faster than it can flow, but he tugs and shakes his head with it in his mouth and it hurts for hours afterward. And then when I feed him again on that breast it seriously hurts. Tonight we decided to make a bottle for him (at 4am -- another perk, not having to do that; it sucks when he's ready for food and it still takes another 6 minutes to get it for him) because my boob hurt too much, and then I topped him off with the pained breast after he had eaten a bit. It still hurt because it was sore from before, but he didn't move around so much so it was manageable.

My other major problem with it is the isolation. I know I'm supposed to be able to breastfeed anywhere, but I don't feel comfortable doing it in public. I'll do it in the car, or in a women's lounge at the mall but I can't just pull it out in Starbucks -- it's just not me. Now, I don't really have a problem feeding in front of friends or family, but my in-laws are of a different era and are very uncomfortable about such things (FIL more than MIL; he won't even set foot in our room. She just gets flustered and leaves immediately or talks to me from around the corner). So I spend much of my days at home in my room or Spencer's so that I can feed him. Half an hour a feeding (approximately) every three hours is at least four hours a day I spend by myself (He's been eating almost every two hours lately so it's probably closer to six hours). My husband tries to hang out with me when he's home, but he gets bored too; I don't blame him.

To a lesser extent and more lately (like since his last doctor's visit) I also worry about how much he's getting. The doctor wasn't happy with how little he had gained since his last appointment, and so I try to feed him as much as I can. However, he is always trying to eat so I can't tell when he's done (if he had his way he'd be permanently attached, which also doesn't help the soreness) until he starts spitting up his meal because he's overfull. But then what if his spitting up is not because he's full, and he's not getting enough to eat because he is spitting up so much?

I feel guilty not enjoying breastfeeding; I know it's supposed to be this great bonding time for me and my child but I feel like I bond with him so much more when we're playing. Feeding has become so utilitarian. We do it because we have to.

But like I said, I'm not going to stop anytime soon. The perks outway the bad. I just had to get it off my chest (no pun intended) and at 5am it seemed like as good a time as any.