I haven’t nursed Nate in five or six days. I’m not exactly sure which nursing session was our last, and I’m glad I don’t know for sure. I have a foggy idea of when it was, that four o’clock in the morning wrestling match between the two of us. If I had known it was the last time we would be doing that special cuddle together, I’d have been really sad.

When I wrote last week about how we were going to introduce some formula to Nate, I wasn’t entirely honest. Our intention was always to transition him to formula completely.

For the first few days we fed him a half and half mix of breast milk and formula, then decreased the amount of breast milk in each feeding to about a quarter.

Then one morning Graham gave Nate his bottle and when he was finished, told me, “That was all formula.” Was that a little bit sneaky? Yes. Am I glad we did it this way? Yes. Graham knew that I would be hovering over the two of them, worrying, if I had known that was the first all-formula bottle.

At first it felt unnatural to feed Nate from a bottle. I was really nervous, always tense that he wouldn’t accept it from me. Scared, even. I was scared of my own baby. Silly, I know, but that’s how I felt. I worried that I was depriving him of something. I still do, kind of, but he loves to sit with me and snuggle and cuddle before, during and after a bottle feeding, especially at night and early in the morning.

Ever since we’ve been feeding Nathan formula he’s seemed different. Happier. Rested. More content. Satisfied in ways that nursing him never seemed to provide. When we were nursing he always seemed hungry. His tummy always seemed to be bugging him. We seem to be over that hurdle now, and I feel like I’m providing for him in new and better ways, now. He gets to have more bonding time during feedings with people who love him.

I know how important breastfeeding is for babies. I still feel that it would have been what was best for Nate for his entire first year if it had been more fulfilling for him and hadn’t completely exhausted me and had me on the verge of depression (I really do believe I was headed down that dim path).

If we ever have another baby I will absolutely nurse him or her. Maybe it will be an entirely different experience, and we’ll do it longer. But I’m done beating myself up about the choice we’ve made with Nate. Because ultimately, I did it for him. For all three of us.

I’ve been hesitant to write about a recent decision that Graham and I have made about Nate. I think you’ll see why when I get through this post.

Nate has not been a good sleeper. If you’re a regular reader, you already know this, since it’s almost all I’ve been writing about lately.

He is also a very demanding feeder. He’s been nursing about every two hours for the last, oh, I don’t know, month or so. This makes for a very exhausted mommy, a frustrated daddy and a tired and crabby baby. We have not been a very happy family.

A few nights ago Nate was very fussy. It was late, we were very tired (again) and Graham turned to me and said, “Why don’t we give him a little formula?”

I didn’t want to. I had convinced myself that the only thing Nate should be eating was my breast milk.

“I don’t want him to have formula,” I said.

“Why not?” he asked me.

“Because breast milk is the best thing for him and I want to do what is best for him,” I replied tearfully.

And then he asked a question that hadn’t even occurred to me.

“What about you?”

He said he didn’t think I could go on this way, and I agreed.

I have exclusively breastfed Nate for almost four months. And in doing so I may be fulfilling a physiological need, but I’ve also sacrificed HOURS of sleep, time for myself, time with my husband and basically given up any semblance of balance in our lives, all for the sake of nursing our son.

I need to get some of that balance back.

We’ve decided to introduce some formula into Nate’s diet.

The first few days were rocky. He still doesn’t like straight formula, but we’ve been mixing it with breast milk and he likes that. We found the right flow level on a nipple and he had a good, big lunch today and went down for a nap like a good boy, his tummy full.

I finally have realized that I can’t take proper care of Nathan if I don’t take proper care of myself. This is just the first step.

Last week kind of sucked.  Last weekend, actually.

My mom was visiting from out west and we had a fight.

Nate wasn’t nursing in his usual way and even refused at one point Sunday night, a first for him.  He fussed, he cried, he yelled, I cried.  Then I tried to pump.  And nothing came.  And I cried some more.  I was convinced our beautiful nursing relationship, that once was so lovely, so easy, so everything I’d hoped it would be, was over.  I imagined I’d have to feed him formula and hated the very thought.  I called my step-mom (she is a nurse) to talk about it, and she wasn’t home, so I bawled in my poor Dad’s ear.  My poor, wonderful Dad who listens to me talk about breastfeeding, never seems awkward when I feed Nate at their house, lets me talk about latching and pumping and let-down without batting an eyelash.

Nate nursed just fine later that night.  I was overtired and overwhelmed and the anxiety from the scene with my mom was interfering with the normal functioning of things.  I think Nate might even have been picking up on my anxiety.

Monday morning, though, I was on a mission to get help.   I called our doctor.  I called the breastfeeding support group here in my municipality and got an appointment made to bring Nate in to see them.  Things got better.  What a difference a day can make!   I did some block feeding on Monday, and kept a little log of how things were going.  By Friday, when it was time to visit the lactation consultant, I felt a little foolish even being there.

The woman I spent time with there was so nice, so supportive and warm.  She said we were doing beautifully.  Said Nate was doing great.  He’s healthy, happy, gaining weight…I basically just needed some encouragement.  She said that’s okay.  That’s just one of the reasons they are there in the community.   “Amy,” she said, “You are EXCLUSIVELY BREASTFEEDING YOUR BABY.”  (That’s how she said it, as though she was speaking in capital letters.)  That sentence has struck me several times since Friday.  It’s pretty awesome that all of Nate’s nutrition is coming directly from me.

I told the lactation consultant that I had been reading too much.  “The internet is a blessing and a curse,” I confided to her.  She agreed.  “You don’t need to read anymore,” she told me.  “You know your baby.  You’re doing fine.”

My mission since then has been to tune out the noise, to avoid the websites, the forums, the over-information that is out there.  I’m tuning it all out and tuning into Nate.  I’m trying to avoid looking at the clock all day long and instead focusing on him and his cues.  I can tell when he’s hungry, when he’s tired, when he’s interested in playing and having fun and moving around.  I’m getting to know him and I’m getting to know myself.  I don’t need the books and the internet to tell me how to be a mom.

Motherhood is so bittersweet.

I want Nate to grow up so badly, but I also want him to stay exactly the way he is forever.

I want him to go to bed upstairs in his crib so I can have some time to myself in the evening, before eleven o’clock at night, but at the same time I like that he’s just over there, in his swing, snoozing away near us.

I love that I can nourish him with my body but breastfeeding is so emotionally and physically draining that every day, at least once a day, I want to throw in the towel and just feed him formula.

There are so many extra little chores that need to be done every day…stock up the diapers, tidy up the toys, fold and put away the extra load of laundry. All of these things are tiring, but I enjoy doing them just the same.

I love how our lives have been forever changed by the addition of this little person to our family, and yet sometimes I yearn for the simplicity of the past.

And then the guilt comes.

A lactation consultant told me on the phone yesterday that “motherhood is the loneliest job on the planet” and while I understand why she said that, because we all feel that way at some point or another, hearing her say it just made me glad that I have so many friends and family members who support what I’m doing here (really, what Graham and I are doing here). And that’s what makes it possible to just pick up, get on with it, try again tomorrow.

A couple of nights ago Nate was really fussy.  He wanted to nurse nearly constantly.  “Okay, here we go, it’s the six-week growth spurt,” I thought.  I resigned myself to the fact that I would be spending the night mostly awake on the couch, a baby on the boob, watching infomercials.  He spent an hour or so cluster feeding, but then he went to sleep in his swing while I crashed on the couch.  Three hours later he woke up to nurse, as usual.  I was spared the hell of being up all night.  I put Nate down in his crib at 3:00 and joined Graham in our bed. Nate didn’t get up again until about 6:30.

After his early morning feed, Nate slept a little longer, and when I went in to get him around 8:00, it was like we had a different baby.  Instead of waking up to his hungry cries on the monitor, I awoke to the sounds of a little guy who was content to lay in his crib and stare up at his mobile and other colourful things in his room.  He seemed happy to see me.  He chattered away while I changed him and smiled up at me when I brought him downstairs to make coffee.

He’s doing things on his terms, now.  He’s just so much more interactive all of a sudden, which is wonderful.  Yesterday morning’s first real smiles at both Graham and I were among the most beautiful moments I’ve experienced as a mom so far.

That light?  The one that is supposed to be at the end of the tunnel?  I can see it’s really there. It’s more than just a tiny point of light, now. It’s growing brighter.  What a beautiful sight!