I battled. But it is time to surrender. I wave the white flag to the enemy I've been trying to keep at bay. I dug in obstinately. But now I'm seeing what peace is to be made in post-war negotiations.
My battle? Breastfeeding. Or breastfeeding a baby who prefers to eat from a bottle. Or breastfeeding a baby while wracked with mono. The logistics of pumping and bottle feeding were manageable. Only my pride wounded. Aren't babies supposed to want to breastfeed all day? Excessive water. Fenugreek. Strict pumping schedule. Fighting it.
The end of the war? My mono. It has completely done my body in. It takes food and fluids to support a healthy body and a healthy body to support a healthy breastmilk system. No input. No output. The science is that simple.
Here I am with the flag raised and a perplexed expression in the formula aisle.
A moment of silence for the loss of something I value that I can no longer give my son. Now facing forward and moving on.
Good reminder. Fill up before you give out. Otherwise...there's nothing left.
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