The Why

I've been doing much much thinking over the past month or so since my head kind of began to come out of the fog about why this happened to me anyway.  One of the hardest things about admitting that I was depressed is that I have always considered myself a happy person.  But, like I mentioned before, a defining factor of my experience with depression is that I didn't feel anything like myself.  Sometimes I felt like I was watching myself go through the motions of life from the outside.  I kept thinking, "this can't be me."

Anyway, moving on to what I think may be a big part of the "why" of my situation.  Miller hates nursing.  I know it's weird, but he has since he was born.  I had such a good experience with this with Els, I was so excited to do it again with Miller.  So, when he was about three weeks old and started screaming bloody murder every time I fed him, it literally broke me.  In pieces.  But I kept on with the madness, mostly because of my stubbornness (which I'm not saying is a good thing), for five more months.  B and my Mom begged me to wean him, but I bull-headedly would not give up.  It was crazy and stupid and now it's over. Miller never liked nursing anymore than in the beginning and I nearly drove everyone close to me crazy.

Words I NEVER thought I'd say are, "I feel so incredibly free now because I feed my baby formula."  But I do.  Bottom line, how I feed Miller for his first year of life is one of the first and smallest of many, MANY decisions I will make for and about him.  The most important thing is that we're happy now.  We don't all cringe and I don't get pits in my stomach every time Miller's hungry.  Chances are, he'll never know or care whether he was nursed or bottle-fed.  We could not be closer if that child was an extension of my arm.  He is a Mama's boy if there ever was one.

And, good Lord, if that child was any cuter, I don't know what we'd do with ourselves.