When it comes to breastfeeding, I have had my ups and downs. I think the one thing that sticks out for me the most (and this is totally coming from a place of needing to heal) what I wish I would have known is that I would struggle so much with the twins. That no matter how hard I fought to make it work (nursing, pumping, supplementing with a freaking dropper so there was no nipple confusion) it wasn’t going to work and I was going to lose pretty much 3 months I could have enjoyed with my boys when they were new and little.
Instead I spent three months on the couch with any combination of us crying at one time. Because I was going to make it work. Also, there is no such thing as low supply. And If I wanted it enough it was going to happen. Because THAT is what I was being told. I was the failure in this situation, I wasn’t giving enough of myself/ my time/ my energy into making it work. The language of the lactivists stings like nothing else.
I have no memories of the first 3 months of their lives that do not look like that. (I have plenty of memories, none of them good.)
Judah has helped to heal a few of these wounds. We’ve struggled through the same issues, with one difference. He started out as a bottomless pit who lived to nurse. So we hobbled along and made it work- and that feels awesome.
But those three months with the twins? I can’t ever get those back. And when they were diagnosed with autism in December, after a year of watching their development and interactions with us slowly come to a halt, I long to have memories of them that were fun and exciting and not full of worry and wondering what was coming next. And in those moments, it doesn’t matter how they were fed, it matters that it is not a joyous time in my memory. It was harder than it needed to be. And I can’t get that back. And it didn’t have to be that way.
I wish someone would have told me that.