I’m in a particularly crunchy mood today. Since I started pumping and no longer actually breastfeeding Abby, I’ve been a little melancholy. It’s been a while, but I just haven’t figured out how to mourn the loss. I guess it comes down to the oxytocin I’m not producing as much of now (if at all?). I’ve started seeking out other people’s stories and being a cheerleading for those that have done what can’t or didn’t. I know what I want to do differently, but I’m not sure how to go about it. I think with the next kid, I might stay at home longer. I would’ve liked to breastfeed for much longer. Pumping just isn’t as much fun or fulfilling.
I’m jealous of the women who have super boobies, and can feed their kids after returning to work. But I’ve dug my own grave. The first night home, we gave her two ounces of formula so she would just stop crying. She slept for 4 hours and we were relieved. Looking back, I did so much research on the birth that I wanted, that I totally skipped over how I actually wanted to take care of her. I knew I would breastfeed, and in my head, it would be for years. I knew that I wanted to do attachment parenting to some extent (not militant at all), and co-sleep. Next time, I will be stronger when going out with a new baby. She’s over 6 months old, and I still shy away from taking her places by myself, for fear of what people will think if she starts crying. I know that partially, this is all in my head. But I care too much what people think. I need to get over that. I don’t think she’s once really cried in public. In the car on the way home, yes… but she almost seems to know that it’s not appropriate to have a melt down in public (for now).
I need to get over being the perfect parent that I want to be, and just be the parent that I am.