Happy Monday everyone, it was quite the weekend. I coached at CrossFit on Saturday and if you know me I love coaching and CrossFit. I have really been enjoying writing my programs for the Saturday’s I coach, this past Saturday I thought was a good one and then before my eyes saw how spicy it got. No matter what though, CrossFitters love one thing, a spicy workout. I love seeing and hearing the feedback and the effort that our community puts into each and every one of their workouts, everyone is really inspiring.
The rest of the weekend was just your typical weekend. Chores, church, eating, you know the usual. And of course keeping our wriggly little baby entertained. He is just about 8.5 months old and is just a bundle of energy. He loves to crawl around the house now, laugh at his kitties and doggies. He also still loves da boobies. You are probably thinking, great she is going to preach about breastfeeding. Well no, I’m not. I want to talk about my experience of breastfeeding as it may not be what you expect.
This time last year I was over 5 months pregnant, finally out of the first trimester and into my second, finding my energy again and so happy to know I was having a little boy. I was also dreading talking about how I was planning on feeding my baby once he was born. Literally the first question I would get when I was talking with friends or random people was “Are you going to breastfeed?” I mean, come one people. Why was this such an important thing for everyone and their mom to know? This is such a personal choice, that should NOT matter. But it does. And sadly we are judged even when they say they are not.
I never intended to breastfeed my son. For whatever reason I thought breastfeeding was just weird. Now before you freak out on me, I never EVER thought it was weird when I saw a mother feeding her baby in public. I was proud of her for doing what she needed for her child. Never did I ever wish they would go someplace more private. Heaven forbid a breast might be seen. Not like anyone has never seen one of those before. Yes, I am a bit heated about this. Anyway, for me I just thought it was weird to have a baby attached to my breast. So after a long decision and several conversations with my husband, I decided to pump and formula feed. I was formula fed and turned out fine.
I definitely got some strange looks, even when I was admitted to the hospital from the staff there. Sucks right? Yeah, it did, but I had other things to focus on, like not screaming when I had contractions. Given that I had an emergency C-section, I literally had no feeling in my arms and was not able to hold my son immediately after he was born. The best I got was him being held close to me, but more important my husband got to hold him and it was magical. I did not get to hold him until at least 20-30 minutes later, after he was fed formula and proceeded to drink the whole bottle, when he was only supposed to have like a quarter of it. He spit it all back up. He loves to eat. My point is, I missed out on a special moment with my decision, I did not get to nurse him right away. I also did not get to do a lot of the first feedings with formula either due to my epidural. We noticed, though, the formula made him very gassy and fussy. My gut told me to try breastfeeding him. I told my nurses my decision and holy crap, it was like I was a goddess or something.
They got me pumping every two hours that night to get my milk supply stimulated and the next morning (Wednesday) I breastfed my son for the first time. And….. I never looked back and realized how special that moment was. He was less fussy and gassy and by the middle of that day my supply was in and the nurses all freaked out. I felt like I got a gold star. This was the first huge decision I made to give what I felt was a better option for my son. I also discovered it was not as weird as I thought it was. Now is this for everyone? Heck no! Am I going to shove this down your throat? Absolutely not. No matter how a baby is fed means they ARE being fed and that’s a happy baby. It does NOT make you a bad mommy. You do you mamma!
midwest fitness chick 