I'm reaching that point where I want to give up breastfeeding. I knew it would come eventually. In four days, Jack will be three months to the day, and I'm feeling like I've given all I have to give in this area.
I pump all day and take meds to garner between 7 to 10 ounces of milk, plus one breastfeed in the morning. And for what? When I try to feed my son my breast milk, oftentimes he'll make a face or flat out reject it. I've been adding it to formula to trick him into it. But it's like he's getting wise to me. He'll guzzle formula down like candy, but his mother's milk is a bother to him. He'll cry at the bottle, go back for another drink and then disengage and cry again. I can't describe the feelings of frustration and rejection I feel when he does this.
When I go out I'm wearing nursing clothes, just in case I start to leak and I can try to offer Jack the breast. It's never worked out. Pointless. And I hate my nursing clothes. They were expensive so I had to buy on sale and they're really nothing special and I don't feel special in them. I want my wardrobe back. I want my body to function like normal again. I'm tired of this. Also, it's been making my teeth sensitive.
It wouldn't be so bad if he was actually on the breast and feeding. Then it would be worth it. But seriously, forcing this issue is really making motherhood less and less enjoyable for me progressively each day.
And this is on top of the isolation I'm feeling.
I'm lonely. There. I've said it. I'm mostly reliant on the Dude for social interaction during the day, and I have to wait until 6:00 or even 7:00 some days to get it. None of my friends have babies. It's been raining almost every day, keeping me in the house with someone who can't hold a conversation. His smiles are great, but I'm a grown woman. I need more.
I'm not cut out for this. And by this I mean staying at home with a baby. Even though I love him, I am not "loving every minute" like the parents police command me to. They're the ones who nod approvingly when they ask if I'm taking a year off and I say yes. I don't mind the approval, it's what follows it, the forceful assumption that of course this is best for everyone and I must be very happy.
Maybe once Jack becomes more interactive I'll be more into this stay-at-home mom experience. That, and less rain chaining me inside my house.
And admittedly, I have a good baby. The problem really is who I am, which is not a baby person. And also the lack of family in the area. Grandparents would be a godsend. But they're all hours away. In many ways I just feel so alone. I miss my social life. I wouldn't give up Jack for anything. I don't regret my choice. I knew the first year would be very hard on me. But it still hurts.
Maybe removing breastfeeding failures from my daily life will improve things.