Have I told you yet that I'm still breastfeeding Isaac.
He's 6 months now.
That's not super old or anything but the truth is I've never made it to 6 months.
I've nursed all 5 of my babies for at least some short period of time and my goal has always been to make it 6 months.
And now I've finally done it!
But I don't feel especially proud. Actually I feel a bit guilty.
I feel guilty because, honestly, I don't really like breastfeeding.
I can't believe I just admitted that
I know there are women that love to breastfeed.
I am just not one of them.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate it. And there are things that I do love about it.
It is super duper convenient. I can grab the baby and his blanket and a diaper and run off to Target for hours.
I can sleep in my bed and feed him without ever really waking up.
Breastfeeding boobies are the best... yeah... I said it.
Minimal spit up.
The breastfeeding badge. When I formula fed my babies I knew that no one looked down on me for only giving them 2nd best... but it sure felt like it.
But now I've made it to 6 months. I've worked through all the hard work... tongue tied baby, cracked bleeding nips, painful engorged breasts, clogged ducts... and now everything is just about as simple as it gets.
So what makes me want to stop? What makes me consider turning to formula?
Sometimes... most times... I just don't have the time to sit down for 20 minutes and feed him.
When I do, somehow the older kids know that I'm officially out of commission and they start smearing peanut butter all over the couch or trying to balance on top of the fridge with the steak knives.
And I feel like a crappy mom because I often find myself holding him and looking at his precious little face and thinking... please hurry up... instead of how much I love him. wow... that was really really honest
So last week I decided I was done. I wasn't going to beat myself up over it. It's just formula and the rest of the kids seemed to survive through it just fine. Plenty of great moms choose to give their babies formula.
He wasn't crazy about it. In fact he spit most of it out and made some really really yucky faces.
And later that day my sweet baby Isaac broke out in hives.
Great.
I instantly thought it was the formula and threw it away and vowed never to touch his poor little lips with the poison again.
That night I sat in the ER with Isaac, watching a nurse give him a dose of prednisone and listening to the doctor explain that it wasn't the formula at all but a virus that caused the hives. They sent me home with a prescription for more prednisone.
I'm sure it was just the paranoid mommy in me but that prednisone scared me! It just seemed like some pretty heavy stuff to give such a little guy. So I called the pediatrician and while I waited for a call back I hopped on Facebook and talked to my mommy friends.
One of them, an amazing breastfeeding mommy of twins and lactation consultant, advised me to slather him in breast-milk.
Sure... why not?
So the next day when the welts flared up again all over his tummy and back and neck, I rubbed that baby down from head to toe before laid him down for his nap.
I finally got a call back from the doctor... no, do not give him that prednisone... should be a last resort only... try Benadryl first.
So I race out the door to go get some Benadryl and I pop in to check on the him first. The kid doesn't have a spot on him.
Seriously. He looked absolutely perfect. You wouldn't have known that the little guy was covered in welts only 45 minutes before.
And they haven't been back since!
So this whole post is dragging on and on now but the whole incident scared the formula right out of the house even though it had nothing to do with the hives and at least for now I'm still breastfeeding.
I guess it's time to hide the peanut butter and steak knives huh?
