The Fasse Posse: Letting go... (warning- I think I needed this as therapy!!)

Long before my baby girl was born, I knew I was going to breastfeed. Being a green-loving, (mostly)earth friendly, (mostly) organic and meat-free eating, child development teaching Mama, it was a natural fit in every way. Watching my belly swell as she grew made me even more sure that I was going to want to bond with her in a way that (in my opinion, anyway) only breastfeeding could provide. During pregnancy, I longed to feel her warmth as she snuggled in close and nursed, as I would continue to provide her with all the nutrients she needed. What a miracle it was when she was born, and those dreams came true. I nuzzled her close, took in her smell, kissed her red cheeks,and bathed in her warmth as I made my first nursing attempt with my 45-minute old bundle of joy. As I brought her toward me, I could feel the bond already starting, and I thought "ha- no way this will be as hard as everyone says". Uh, WRONG! Trying to get her to latch and stay awake quickly woke me from my idealistic haze, and I was sent straight into the reality of it- breastfeeding is not for the faint of heart.

The first couple of weeks of breastfeeding were two of the hardest I have been through. It has a learning curve that I was not prepared for, but with the endless support of my loving husband, a lot of patience and a LOT of help from some very amazing and supportive women, we plowed through. My goal was to exclusively breastfeed until Leah was one year old, and, in my mind, nothing was going to stop me. I loved feeding my daughter, and she seemed to enjoy it, too! Perfection. Leah was never going to have a drop of formula- done and done.

Then, I went back to work. Once I could no longer put LiLi to the breast whenever she needed and or wanted, my already mediocre supply dwindled. When I was away from her at work, I pumped twice a day, giving up a precious hour of work time each day to do what I had to do to feed my baby. While my red-headed babe slept soundly through the night, I set my alarm for 2 AM for 3 months so that I could pump to keep up with her. They say breastfeeding is all about supply and demand- the more the baby needs, the more your body makes. Well, my body did not get that memo. Turns out milk supply has nothing to do with the size of the suppliers, if you know what I mean. I happen to be a crappy milk-maker, and it was catching up to me. Leah was growing, but not as fast as she should have been, and this laid-back Mom started to worry that we were underfeeding our most precious gift. I kept on going, though, feverishly pumping and feeding at just about every opportunity possible, while speaking to specialists to help me increase my low supply so that I could do everything in my power to keep my girl off formula. I took herbal supplements that lactation consultants swear by. Nope. I drank 120 oz of water a day and drank brothy soups, as a wonderful nursing friend of mine suggested. Uh-uh. I totally stopped dieting to ensure I was getting enough calories to feed the both of us. Nada. I even tried pumping while smelling Leah's clothes to stimulate let-down. Zero increase. Finally, I tried a hard-core prescription to boost my milk supply. It STILL did not increase as much as it should have. I was defeated and feeling awful about it.

Then, two weeks ago, as my husband got on the scale with Leah and found that she had gained a measly 4 ounces in 6 weeks (they should gain about 1-1.5 lbs a month), I hit my breaking point, cried about it for the last time, and sent my beyond supportive husband to Target to purchase the dreaded formula, as we were literally out of extra milk to supplement her feedings. We had no choice, and I had to give in. I was convinced this was the end of me being the best mom I could be.

As I watched Paul sit on the foam playmat or daughter loves so much, take our beautiful girl in his arms and give her the first swigs of Similac from her Born Free bottle hours later, something happened inside of me. I LET GO. I felt as though someone had climbed off my shoulders. I had a sense of relief more than I sense of disappointment. See, I am not the kind of person who typically stresses out about things or puts huge amounts of pressure on myself. I am pretty laid back, both as a person and a mom, and rarely do I let things get to me like this. For some reason, though, I had it in my head that I MUST only give my daughter milk from me or the world might end. I had spent months stressing and days crying and feeling guilty, which is so not like me at all. "Get over yourself" kept scrolling through my thoughts. Well, guess what? I did. Once she took that formula, and I saw that neither one of us died, I was ok. Two days later, I felt even better, as P got on the scale with her once again, and we watched with disbelief and joy as the numbers climbed- she gained 9 ounces in just 2 days- all from taking just one bottle a day of formula! Turns out we were underfeeding the poor Love. Awesome...

All of a sudden, the guilt I had harbored for having to supplement went away, and I felt like we did not only the necessary thing, but the right thing. Big lesson learned... you make the best choice you can for you child at any given moment, and you don't do it based on what you hope for. There are no rules- you just do what is right and do the best you can for your kids. You let go when you have to, because sometimes the most selfless thing you can do is get over what YOU want, and do what your child needs.

As I write this, the baby who was a teeny 12 pounds, 4 ounces exactly two weeks ago is laying in her crib, sucking on her thumb, fast asleep- all 13 lbs, 11 oz of her. :) She has put on a pound and a half in two weeks! She is finally catching up, and we are still managing to just give her one bottle of formula a day. In my eyes, we are both getting the best of both worlds now. I am still primarily nursing, but LiLi is getting the precious extra calories she needs, and watching her grow is a beautiful thing!

Last week, we also started our little Smushie on cereal! Here are some shots from her first foray into chewing and swallowing. She does fine with it, but it is not her fav... a little gross, perhaps?

(a special thanks to Nonnie and Papo for the gorgeous Tiffany silver spoon, Aunt Peggy for the beautiful spoon with her name on it, and Uncle Jim and Aunt Jeanne for the beautiful Tiffany dish set. She ate off all three for her first time.)