The Boob

Before Olivia was born, I had an internal battle with myself. I really wanted to breastfeed, but I also didn't. Once I saw her beautiful face, I knew that I had to give it my best shot. So we tried. And we tried. The nurses tried to help. The lactation consultants tried to help. Alas, we had no luck in that department. One of the nurses  made me cry, because my milk hadn't come in yet, and she told me that I was not doing very well. She essentially told me that even with all that trying, my baby was starving. She guilted me into giving her a bottle.

For the next three days, though I tried to get her to latch on, it just wasn't working. She wanted no part of it. Once my milk finally did come in, we tried again, and she just didnt want to.

Enter the long hours of painstakingly difficult pumping... with a hand pump, mind you. I struggled and fought for every ounce I got. I tried everything I could to increase my supply, but after around 3 months, the milk factory shut down.

You wouldnt believe how many tears I shed over that. I was doing my best to give my baby what she needed, but my body was refusing to cooperate. Looking back, I should have kept fighting. I should have tried harder on the boob. If there is a next time... the baby WILL be breastfed. I will kick and scream at my body until it does what it's supposed to.

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