We’ve Weaned -- Now What?

Thank you for all your comments and messages regarding my last post -- how I’m feeling overwhelmed and like I need CHANGE. It was definitely a brain-dump about things I’ve been thinking about for quite some time, and it felt good to sort things out on the screen so I could take a few days and think. While I definitely feel wrapped up in craziness lately, I know that I could probably being doing more to help my situation. When you’re in the thick of it, trying to tunnel a way out can feel absolutely impossible, though.

I wasn’t planning on weaning Eloise this weekend, but it happened because I knew I needed it off my plate. I also knew we were ready (heck -- I wrote about weaning her back in June!). We had been down to just the nighttime feed for a month or so. Stephen was having a long Saturday and getting home several hours after he had initially planned . . . and something told me to just buy a ticket for the 7PM showing of It and have him take over bedtime. Such a small thing felt wildly rebellious in the moment.

As I clicked “order” I immediately felt a sense of relief. And also guilt. But mostly sweet, sweet relief.

Eloise turned 15 months last week. I’ve had trouble with the demands of breastfeeding this time around. Still, we forged through together and made it. I texted Stephen from the theater to wish him luck. I worried so much that she’d be crying her head off because I had abandoned her with no warning. And he quickly texted me back that she was already sound asleep with ZERO issues. He said that I was the one who needed luck sleeping after watching that clown run around town, tormenting those children.

True.

It’s been a few days, and Eloise has had no issues going to bed at night without breastfeeding. It’s closing yet another chapter in her babyhood. I’m proud that I was able to breastfeeding both of my girls for a grand total of 32 months. I did it with very few bottles or breaks to speak of. I’m not looking for an award by any means. I am more reflecting on what a crazy commitment nursing is. I won’t paint it with rainbows and kittens. It’s hard work and absolutely maddening at times.

Now that it’s over, I don’t know what that means. I’ve been loosely tracking my cycles, but shying from trying to conceive a third child. I don’t feel quite ready yet. And now that I have my body back, I may just want to take a few months to enjoy being me and having that autonomy again. Weaning was a small step in carving out more sanity for myself. I’m hoping to follow this action with more that will bring me that feeling of inner-peace I’ve been craving.

But for today, I just wanted to tell this story. It’s bittersweet, as always. Our children grow so quickly. I feel like I spend so much time trying to catch the next stage. Then, when it happens . . . it feels all sorts of ways I wasn’t expecting. That said, I’m loving this new toddler stage. I’ll do an update on what Eloise is up to these days very soon!

Happy hump day!

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Weaning Eloise at Age One

Well, here we are. Just 13 days shy of Eloise's first birthday. We made it. And what a year it has been! I still very vividly remember going to pick up Ada from one of her last days of preschool. I had taken a long, hilly walk with my mother-in-law that morning -- so, standing in the sun watching the kids play in inflatable pools was quite comfortable. Labor felt eons away. Still, we returned home for lunch . . . and not an hour later, my water broke. 38 weeks and one day.

You guys know that nursing has never been my love language. (Does that term even apply here? I don't know. I just like typing love language.) Breastfeeding is complicated for me. It was when I was feeding Ada, but it was new back then. Fresh. I was trying very hard to succeed at mom-ing. The novelty helped me trudge through to 17 months. Not a drop of formula hit that angel-baby's lips. This time around, though, I almost instantly couldn't take the cluster-feeding. I'd feel the guilt rise from within.

(E passed out after nursing in public)

Even through intense pangs of nursing aversion, my internal dialogue was all about comparison. "Don't you love this baby as much as you loved Ada? Give her 'the BEST'!" Breastfeeding is what you are supposed to do if you value the more crunchy things I supposedly value. I had a LLL leader once tell me upon meeting her that it was a shame I weaned Ada at such a "young" age. After all, her healing from brain surgery would have been much better had I not been selfish. I digress.

OK. So, long story short -- I did a feed of formula -- combination feeding -- once a day with Eloise when she was like 4 to 5 months old. My supply never wavered. It wasn't the easiest arrangement. Stephen didn't love using the strangely slanted Doidy cup, but it was the only way she'd guzzle the chemical sludge, er, formula. Somewhere around 6 months, she cut out that feed and I just resumed breastfeeding for all milk feeds. Like a champ. Oh, we also started solids a bit after 4 months this time around despite numerous recommendations I've read. Here's the thing -- Eloise was much happier when she started eating solids. The reflux got better. It just seemed like a natural progression.

Let's see. So, she was feeding like 5-6 times a day . . . and then it dropped to a steady 5 times a day for quite some time. She'd eating upon waking at 8, then at 11, 3, 7, and sometime in the night or early morning. This schedule continued till Eloise was around 10 months old when I decided to night wean. I was tired from waking up and she had stopped eating much at that overnight hour anyway. Guess what? There wasn't a single night of protest. Life sailed on. Since 10.5 months or so, Eloise has been sleeping from 7:30 till around 7:30 pretty much every night. Including now, when she is currently getting six teeth at once. Holy moly.

A week ago, I decided that a year of nursing is going to be our journey. I got my cycle back last month. I swear that ever since, Eloise has just been nursing differently. She's eating far less, she's far more distracted, she'd biting more than ever (yay teething!). She's also becoming a toddler, and that's a whole new world of nursing frustrations. With all the trouble I had getting into my groove . . . I'm proud to say I made it this far. We did. Together. I really do need to thank the patient nursling baby for putting up with my craziness with not loving what should be the most natural thing in the world.

OK. So, a week ago I replaced one of the daytime feeds with a cup of cow's milk. We're at 11.5 months, so I figure that's close enough to the magic 12-month mark when you can start offering milk. She is doing really well with these awesome Boon silicone cup-toppers (that are several dollars cheaper on Amazon than at Target where I got mine -- boo!). She drinks around 4 ounces pretty reliably. I'd like it to be 6, but we'll take it. Wasn't super easy at first, but within a week, she is now drinking without much trouble.


Today, I've decided I'm going to see if we can get another feed weaned. And I plan to go at the rate of a feed dropped every one or two weeks until we're done. Should be by 13 months, give or take.

I feel like saying that I'm doing mother-led weaning isn't going to sit well with some breastfeeding advocates. I love my children tremendously, but I also recognize that to be a good mom, I need to feel good myself. I also want to be another voice in the nursing world. I am a member of a Facebook group on the subject, for example, and there's so much mommy shaming and fear mongering that goes on there.

Like, "how dare you give your sweet baby that evil formula when there's donor milk from total strangers that you can get on Craigslist?"

Or "You say fed is best? That's like saying not killing your child is best!" (No, really. That comment was on there!)

It goes on and on. I did the best I could. And I have come to a place after a lot of anguish and questioning of myself where I feel like I really did do well for my child. I want to say again that I experienced no breastfeeding issues by doing the whole breast-and-bottle are best thing. We did it temporarily and then resumed regularly scheduled programming. Eloise is gaining weight better now than she had been, too. Thank goodness for reflux meds (yet another thing the breastfeeding group says are evil).

There's a lot more to say, but I may lump that in a proper happy birthday post in a couple weeks. I am a true believer that fed is best. No matter what you're doing, you're doing a good job if you are caring enough to, well, care about what goes into your baby's system. Keep on keeping on. Don't let peer pressure make you miserable on either side of the spectrum. I have several dear friends who have nursed three-year-olds, more power to these ladies. I, myself, have never ingested breastmilk . . . and I've lived nearly 34 years to bring you these ever-entertaining musings.

Happy Friday, friends!

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Mixing It Up // Combination Feeding?

I have hesitated to write a post about how breastfeeding is going. We are nearly five months in and -- at least on the surface -- it's working out well. If you dig just a little, though, you'll have me in tears. Because I'm honestly overwhelmed. I didn't necessarily want to write about this topic, but I find so little out there that reads like my experience.

I don't have supply issues.
I don't have pain.
I don't have infections or plugged ducts or anything like that.
Nothing is "wrong".

I am lucky because my body seems to do the job of making milk and delivering it to baby easily. I am lucky because I know so many women struggle with making milk or getting baby to latch and work tirelessly because "breast is best" and everything else we read over and over and over again.

When I breastfed Ada, I didn't love it. But I did it because I truly did feel like what I was doing was so, so, so important. I didn't dare deviate from her cues. I fed on-demand. She took bottles here and there, but I was mostly OK with feeding her. She slept well throughout the night from an early age and wasn't a terribly demanding feeder. She ate quickly and moved on. Yeah, we hit some distracted periods -- but I was also a first-time mom. It was all fascinating to me.

This time around, I don't think I can say I have enjoyed any part of breastfeeding much at all. It started at mild frustration but has snowballed into full-blown feelings of awfulness. I have spoken with my midwife and we agree that I don't have symptoms of PPD. I actually did have a touch of that with Ada, and this is entirely different. My feelings are only tied to breastfeeding, yadda, yadda.

I think I have a few things going against me.

• First, it's been a long time since I have had a baby. I had a lot of body autonomy and just freedom in general because a 4-year-old is not a baby or toddler. Nope, she's a tiny kid. We would pick up and go and do whatever, whenever, for however long.
• I spent two years with infertility and recurrent miscarriages. My body was host to three pregnancies before Eloise came along. I bled and cried and generally felt awful for a long time. Then when I did get pregnant, I had tons of those contractions again and spent the nine months worried I'd go into premature labor. Pregnancy is just not my strongest area, obviously.
• Eloise is a darling. I love her to pieces. But she is a grazer. She loves to linger at the breast for long (and very distracted of late) feedings. She loves to eat in the night, every night, several times a night. She is calmed no other way. Like, seriously. No other thing calms her. We have tried so much.
• I am alone most days for 11-12 hours and on Saturdays for the bulk of the day until cross-country season is over. I have no family in the area. I work from home. Basically, I have little to no escape.

This is all a long list of excuses to explain that I have been having a hard go with breastfeeding this time around. I'm not asking for permission to feel this way. I am not trying to justify why I feel like this for anyone but myself. But what I can say is that I am having trouble finding support. Like I wrote in my last breastfeeding confessional, it seems you have to either be on the "formula feeling is awesome" or "exclusive breastfeeding is the only way" camp.


I decided the other day that to be a happier person and better mom, I'd like to consider doing combination feeding. In other words: I'd like to consider giving a bottle of formula once a day or so. Mostly to give myself a small break in the afternoon, which is when I tend to see the feedings piling atop of one another. (We are still in a bit of a cluster-feed before bed that never results in longer sleep than 2.5-3 hours at a time.)

Yes, I know I can pump and offer breast milk. To me, this isn't a solution for me. I'll just feel unhappy hooked up to a pump. I brought up this whole mixed feeding business on my personal Facebook and immediately got some "that's cool, do what you want" feedback . . . but also some rather negative feedback from some surprising people in my life. Like a few messages about how formula is poison, why would I ever do this is breastfeeding is going well, "I certainly would never do that," etc.

I'm reaching out today to see if anyone have done combo feeding. What has your experience been? I have been reluctant to try because I can't seem to find a lot of information about how it works. I read so many places that even just one replacement feeding a day will sink my milk supply. I feel tremendous guilt for even thinking of doing mixed feeding. And that's why I'm writing this post today. I don't think I should feel this way. I am trying to do what is best for my baby. Feed her. Be a happier mom. Why should I feel guilty?

Although, this entire thing might be silly to bring up at all because we cannot get our girl to take a bottle, a cup, or anything like that. From anyone. Anywhere. We have tried all the tricks. We have spent a small fortune on cups. I have burned through my freezer supply. Just wasted it without so much as an ounce going to good use. Sigh.

For now, little Eloise will keep getting her favorite meal from the source. Again, I feel fortunate to be able to provide this to her. I would love to continue giving breast milk as her primary food source. I just need something to change, even if it's a small something.

Thanks in advance for any info you can share with me.

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Why I Breastfeed

"Whoa," said Stephen. "Aren't you showing a bit much?" He's referring to my photo on Instagram in celebration of World Breastfeeding Week. Honestly? My shirt is off more than it's on these days, so I didn't even think twice about it. It's my current look. It's my current reality. It's how Eloise eats 8-10+ times each and every day (and night!). So, I guess it is indeed a bit much . . . but it's my exact point in motherhood.

Hashtag allthenursing:

I myself was a formula fed baby. So my current stance on the whole mommy wars issue is that a fed baby is a happy baby. You're doing a great job if your baby is fed. I truly believe that. Why is breastfeeding so important to me? I don't really know. My body seems to do a good job at making milk. I work from home. It just makes sense to me that way. It's something I can provide to help our family and to help bond with baby. Sometimes, the reason isn't always so clear.

There are (many) days when I don't know why I continue breastfeeding. I've told you all how much I don't love it. Like on Sunday. Eloise woke at 5:30 AM, and I fed her every hour for 45 minutes, giving me only 15 minute snippets of me-time until 10:30 PM that evening. Otherwise known as the hellish 6-week growth spurt. She then slept 7 hours of pure heaven after that. Anyway, I know it gets easier, so I kept telling myself that. The early stages of breastfeeding can be downright maddening. The wisdom I have now is that I know it will get easier with time.

I don't have a blissful essay to write on the matter. Breastfeeding is undoubtedly one of the hardest things I've ever done. I had forgotten how draining it can be (see what I did there?). But in all seriousness, it just isn't something that comes naturally to me. I'm far too wound and sitting for hours on end during the six week growth spurt almost broke me. And then it got better again. When I see how much it means to Eloise in terms of comfort . . . it makes it somehow worth the struggle. (In fact, I hear her stirring now, so I'll keep this brief.)

I don't know how long I'll keep it up this time around. We're only 7 weeks in, and I don't want to make grand plans, especially with my current feelings of being somewhat cluster-fed out. With Ada, I never imagined I'd keep at it for nearly 18 months. I took things one week at a time. With my personality, 18 months is an eternity. Now? I have only fond memories of nursing her. All I can share is that -- even with the struggles -- breastfeeding is something I'm sure to always remember in my life for better or worse.

So, happy World Breastfeeding Week. Good job keeping your babies feed with the boob or otherwise. If you're struggling with breastfeeding, mentally or physically, know you're not alone. It's OK to not be in love with it. There are many of us who feel this way, but still come out the other side happy we forged on. And with that, I'm off to nurse by baby . . . again!

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Breastfeeding Confessional

I certainly shared my mixed feeling about nursing during Ada's infancy. I'll try not to hit all that stuff with a stick too much longer -- but I wanted to address breastfeeding today. I have a conflicted relationship with it. On one hand, I feel fortunate to offer food and comfort to our tiny babe. I know it's good for my health and hers. On the other hand, the early days and weeks can be downright maddening. Cluster-feeding, hour-long sessions, engorgement, and a total lack of personal space.

At just two weeks in, the ride is only beginning.

Am I alone in feeling this way?

Pregnancy is this absolutely miraculous process. But I don't love being pregnant because it means I'm solely responsible for nurturing a life. It means that I'm a host. Especially this time around, I was terrified being pregnant much of the time. In fact, one of the first things I said after giving birth was "I'm so happy I'm not pregnant anymore." This huge rush of relief surged through my body, washing away the anxiety that had plagued me for much, much longer than my 38 weeks.

Breastfeeding is a whole new and different responsibility. On the second day in the hospital, one of the lactation consultants visited me and asked how things are going. Well, I said, baby's latch is amazing -- but she fed every single hour last night. I'm exhausted, I said with a bit of a laugh, and really need a break. I looked for some sympathy, some understanding. But I was met instead with a concerned expression. I was also given information on newborn nursing habits and a brief chat about PPD.

I know all of that, I said, and I know it gets better (after all, I nursed Ada for nearly 18 months) -- but it's still just difficult for me. I'll come back later, she said, when you're more rested.

I don't know. I choose to breastfeed and go through all the emotions and, yes, inconvenience because I do believe it's beneficial for baby. I do enjoy the bond, but I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that sometimes -- even in summer -- I just want to wear a turtleneck and not bare my chest hours at a time. Also: Being home, I feel like breastfeeding is a small way that I'm contributing by not having to buy formula. And my babies (so far) seem to be really good at it. Yup. In so many ways, nursing is a natural choice . . . and it's one I'll continue to choose despite not loving it all the time.

But that's the thing. Is it horrible that I don't love breastfeeding?

This isn't some funk I've fallen into postpartum. It's how I felt with Ada, especially in the beginning. Is it OK not to relish the hours on end marathons of boob eating from 5 PM to 10 PM each night? Is it alright to feel frustrated that I'm on a constant 2 to 3 hour clock after four years of blissful independence? But is it also acceptable to admit all these things and still say that it's what I want to do? Why can I not be a bit irked with the whole thing (getting used to it again, at least)?

I guess these are hypothetical questions. In the end, it's all my choice. I feel fortunate to have choice. We're making our way through the trenches of the worst period, and I will admit it's easier this time around. Little Eloise is really my joy. I love seeing that she gets so much comfort from being near me.

Still, last night I don't think Ada saw me with a shirt on from after her nap until bedtime. Craziness. This time around, though, I'm hoping to go more easy on myself. The first time, I was pretty hard on myself for not feeling that nursing is a magical experience to cherish always. Right now, I'm trying to savor the good and make it through the bad and ugly. We've even decided to do pacifiers because the comfort sucking is a bit nuts, but that's a post for another day.

When I look up some questions about nursing on the web, I feel like there are two main camps. The people who quit really early and can't stand it OR the people who embrace it and just adore nursing. Please tell me I'm not alone being somewhat between these ends of the spectrum.

And HAPPY TUESDAY!

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