I spent the first 5 weeks of Eva's life agonizing over her health and how she was eating. It was miserable. I couldn't fully enjoy her because of all the worry. Finally, after 5 difficult weeks, I decided to give up trying to nurse her. And just like that, I began to bond with my baby for the first time. While I don't regret my decision (it led to a much happier, healthier baby and mama), I do carry deep remorse over the entire situation.
I'm going to be perfectly frank here: I feel like an impostor as a mother. Rationally, I know that to be an absolutely ludicrous feeling, but deep down, there's a yearning for what I wasn't able to do for my baby. Because I'm not nursing her, I feel replaceable. I feel like anyone could just step in and take my place and life could carry on without skipping a beat.
I guess a big part of the reason I feel like a fake is because I tried to do most things the more natural, gentle way in terms of pregnancy and babies. I had a wonderful pregnancy guided by midwives, a powerful natural birth in a very peaceful environment, heck, I even cloth diapered! But as hard as I tried, I couldn't make breastfeeding (the most NATURAL thing of all) work for us.
When expressing my grief over our circumstance, many people (likely with good intentions) made comments to the effect of: "It's ok, there's always future babies you can try again with." While yes, that's true that I will absolutely be giving my everything (again) to breastfeed future babies, it does nothing for the here and now. Those future babies aren't Eva. I'll never be able to nurse her properly. I'll never be able to do for her what I'll (hopefully) do for her siblings. And that's what I mourn. Yes, I now know what I need to do differently to have a higher chance of success in breastfeeding, but I mourn the loss of that with this baby. She's my only Eva.
When I see or hear of friends (or even strangers) discussing anything to do with breastfeeding, I feel a pit in my stomach and a quick pain in my chest. I feel like such a phony because I'm missing that one piece of motherhood. Like I said, logically I know this to be ridiculous. Lots and lots of women bottle feed their babies for all kinds of reasons and they are wonderful mothers. But I can't get rid of this feeling. It's getting to the point that I'm avoiding these friends that have even innocently mentioned anything about their positive experiences breastfeeding. It's crazy!
I figured I would struggle with these feelings for a while, but I had no idea I would still be feeling this way months later. I know this is such a minor, silly trial (especially in light of such devastating circumstances people close to me are dealing with right now) and I've tried to bury these feelings all this time. But I still feel them, no matter how deeply they're buried.
My baby is happy and healthy and I know that's all that matters. I just hope these feelings subside over time.
I'm going to be perfectly frank here: I feel like an impostor as a mother. Rationally, I know that to be an absolutely ludicrous feeling, but deep down, there's a yearning for what I wasn't able to do for my baby. Because I'm not nursing her, I feel replaceable. I feel like anyone could just step in and take my place and life could carry on without skipping a beat.
I guess a big part of the reason I feel like a fake is because I tried to do most things the more natural, gentle way in terms of pregnancy and babies. I had a wonderful pregnancy guided by midwives, a powerful natural birth in a very peaceful environment, heck, I even cloth diapered! But as hard as I tried, I couldn't make breastfeeding (the most NATURAL thing of all) work for us.
When expressing my grief over our circumstance, many people (likely with good intentions) made comments to the effect of: "It's ok, there's always future babies you can try again with." While yes, that's true that I will absolutely be giving my everything (again) to breastfeed future babies, it does nothing for the here and now. Those future babies aren't Eva. I'll never be able to nurse her properly. I'll never be able to do for her what I'll (hopefully) do for her siblings. And that's what I mourn. Yes, I now know what I need to do differently to have a higher chance of success in breastfeeding, but I mourn the loss of that with this baby. She's my only Eva.
When I see or hear of friends (or even strangers) discussing anything to do with breastfeeding, I feel a pit in my stomach and a quick pain in my chest. I feel like such a phony because I'm missing that one piece of motherhood. Like I said, logically I know this to be ridiculous. Lots and lots of women bottle feed their babies for all kinds of reasons and they are wonderful mothers. But I can't get rid of this feeling. It's getting to the point that I'm avoiding these friends that have even innocently mentioned anything about their positive experiences breastfeeding. It's crazy!
I figured I would struggle with these feelings for a while, but I had no idea I would still be feeling this way months later. I know this is such a minor, silly trial (especially in light of such devastating circumstances people close to me are dealing with right now) and I've tried to bury these feelings all this time. But I still feel them, no matter how deeply they're buried.
My baby is happy and healthy and I know that's all that matters. I just hope these feelings subside over time.
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