All Bottled Up

With our recent foray into the world of formula I've found myself thinking more about the ups and downs of feeding Frankie. The possibility of moving a little towards formula and away from breastfeeding has reinforced for me how much I've come to enjoy breastfeeding over these last few months - a pretty big shift from our first few weeks together. 

I never thought it was going to be easy. I had read about babies having difficulties latching on and I knew that breastfeeding would mean that it was me getting up with her throughout the night. Both of these scenarios I was prepared for. I was much less prepared for the frequency of daytime baby feedings. Once Frankie sorted out how to eat, which did take her some time, she was committed. Some days she would nurse for thirty to forty minutes and be ready to start all over twenty minutes later. Some days it seemed were dedicated entirely to filling and refilling her little belly. 

When at two months she started wanting to nurse every few hours all night long I was pretty sure I was about spent. I googled every variation of "minimum amount of breast feeding recommended" in search of some sort of exit sooner than the generally agreed upon six months. No luck. I'm not sure what I would have done had I found something. I can be a bit stubborn and as much as I wanted an out I didn't want to give up. It did get easier and then much easier and then even easier. And the easier it got the more I was able to enjoy it and this time with her and to appreciate its ups - for us always having her food along with us has been a huge up. 

In reading back through my thoughts on trying to get Frankie to try formula I started to wonder if maybe it seemed as though we were anti-formula. Not this mamma. If Frankie had taken to it during any of our attempts (and especially if it had helped her sleep) we'd have been happy. But she didn't. She wouldn't take breast milk in a bottle either so despite what our more experienced taste buds told us about the flavour of formula it was the bottle she despised. When she was wee (like six weeks) she took a bottle like it was nothing - how I wish we'd tossed her one every few weeks just to keep her in the loop. 

Decisions have been one of the most intimidating parts of parenthood - when you realize for the first time that its you who has to decide and your decision has implications for this little life all bundled up in your arms. But these very same decisions have also been one of the best parts of parenthood: when mumma-intuition makes itself known (all yelling and screaming compared to its former whispery self) and tells you that you know this babe best, when once the decision is made you realize it wasn't so scary after all, and when you come to know that just as you're making the best decisions for your little pod so are other pod mummas and pappas and all is, well, just as it should be.