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Tonight I Shed Tears in the Glider
Before my little one even made his entrance into the world, I had a different outlook on breastfeeding than many of my friends. Given my intense dislike for pregnancy, I figured that nursing would be just as challenging. When I initially embarked on this breastfeeding journey, my aim was a mere three weeks. A bold goal, right?
During those early weeks, I found myself in the glider of my baby’s nursery, crying and stumbling through each feeding. It felt so foreign and utterly unnatural. I wanted to confront every lactation consultant who had confidently suggested this as the best path and express my frustrations.
But tonight, everything feels different.
Tonight, as I sat in that same glider, I wept because, after nine months, this chapter of our journey is coming to a close. Amid the postpartum blues, aching nipples, and feelings of being tied down to this tiny human, we somehow found our rhythm. Why is it so easy to focus on the tough parts of motherhood and overlook the beautiful moments? Somewhere along the way, I started to cherish those quiet times together, and just as I was beginning to appreciate their beauty, it feels like it’s all slipping away.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I held my little one close before bed, trying to soak in every single detail: the way his small body fit perfectly against mine, the gentle rise and fall of his breath, and the way his tiny hand rested against his face. I cried because I know these moments will fade from memory.
I don’t want to forget this.
I cried because the guilt overwhelmed me. This has been his sanctuary since he arrived in this world, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of taking that away from him.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also feeling a bit scared. It’s not the formula or the judgment from other moms or the discomfort of weaning that frightens me; it’s the fear of who I’ll be without breastfeeding. During this challenging first year, it has been my secret weapon against sleepless nights, teething troubles, and those nerve-wracking pediatrician visits. It feels as though I’m willingly giving up my armor and stepping into battle unprepared, unsure of how I will cope.
I stifle a sob, grappling with the worry that this choice might make me less essential. I know my husband refers to these as “irrational mom thoughts,” but they linger tonight.
Maybe tomorrow, the part of my brain that can think rationally will kick in, and I’ll find comfort knowing that while our breastfeeding bond has been special, it doesn’t define my role as a mother. I’ll remind myself that a mother’s worth lies in her endless love and support, her ability to soothe every scrape with a kiss, and her unwavering desire to give her child the best life possible. Tonight I cried in the glider, but tomorrow I’ll remember that as long as there’s good food in his belly, it doesn’t really matter where it comes from.
If you’re interested in more about home insemination and pregnancy, check out this excellent resource from the CDC for more information on the topic. And for those looking for more insights, be sure to visit our other blog post about intracervical insemination. For anyone considering at-home solutions, you can also find valuable information at Make A Mom.
Summary:
In a heartfelt reflection, a mother shares her emotional journey through breastfeeding, revealing her initial doubts and fears, and the profound bond she developed with her baby over time. As she prepares to wean, she grapples with feelings of guilt and uncertainty about her identity as a mother beyond breastfeeding. Ultimately, she resolves to cherish the moments they shared and recognize her worth as a nurturing figure in her child’s life.