It’s the temptation to spiral
It’s wild to me how marriage shows me how selfish I actually am and how having kids only accentuates that. I’ve always heard people say that, but really experiencing it is humbling.
Giving birth to Sage and continuing to raise him was incredibly fun but uncomfortable because everything was so new. Yeah, I had cared for babies and young kiddos since I was 11 years old (what were those parents thinking leaving me with their kids….) but it was obviously so much different with my own baby AND doing it around the clock every day… and night. I didn’t realize it was uncomfortable until Cedar was born. Everything was SO comfortable right away with Cedar, from nursing (he latched right away, only minutes after he was born) to changing his diaper, to swaddling him and holding him exactly right so it was the most comfy for both of us.
What has been different this time than with Sage is my milk production. With Sage, I was beyond paranoid that I wasn’t making enough, when I was actually making plenty. I wish I could have relaxed a bit more and enjoyed the process. This time, however, I am not eating nearly enough calories because I’m forgetting to eat and also forgetting to drink water. At one point after we learned Cedar dropped from the 80th to the 30th percentile in weight, I went to see a lactation specialist. She put me on a strict regimen of eating a shit ton of calories in whatever form I could get (cupcakes included). Okay, can do. And to relax. Ha! Right. And then to pump after each feeding for 3-4 days straight. I wanted to cry. It seemed impossible, what with Sage running around pulling at the pump and Cedar screaming next to me cause I couldn’t hold him. But I did it with the help of Tyler and some friends reminding me to eat and holding/caring for my babies when I needed to pump since we were going to be in Sunriver with them the 4 days after my lactation appointment. And it kicked my supply into high gear. Or at least a few gears up. But it also kicked up my weight. Like, a lot. I couldn’t and still can’t fit into my clothes any more. Unless you’re counting the 3 pairs of joggers I have on rotation and the 3 over sized sweatshirts I live in. It’s made me feel very shabby, and not chic shabby. Like, I don’t know how to dress myself, shabby.
My husband has kept me afloat, telling me how beautiful I look and that I’m sexy and that he can’t keep his hands off me. And he can’t. I love it so much. But after the second month of feeling entirely unpresentable and literally only using 2% of the clothes in my closet and drawers (that are overflowing and impossible to keep organized), I’m over it. I want to wave the white flag and surrender breastfeeding to life with a bottle of the milk I’ve stored until now and yes, formula. The cursed F-word in the world of momming (which is incredibly effed, if we’re being honest). I miss my body. I miss sweating through a hard workout and not worrying about how many calories I need to consume to make sure my supply doesn’t drop. I miss feeling like I have enough energy to keep up with Sage when he plays and soon Cedar. I miss getting up early to get my day started before the world wakes up and not worrying about feeding Cedar from my boobs. I miss my mental health being closer to the side of healthy and clear instead of heavy, anxious and stressed.
And this is why having kids has made me really realize just how damn selfish and vain I am. Such a slap in the face. I’m fighting with the devil in my head that’s saying I’m giving up the best thing for my baby for my own selfishness. So I can fit into my clothes and have ‘my body back’. It makes me feel like I’m giving up. Failing. After only 4 months of it. And it makes me sick thinking of it like that, but it’s true. I know fed is best, but woof… actually accepting that is so fucking hard.
————btw, it is so refreshing being able to use profanity while I write and not be concerned about who is reading this————
I’m working through this thought process though. I’m trying to follow the peace, which is slowly weaning off of breastfeeding. It’s allowing my mind to feel more free with less pressure. Jesus is peace. And following Jesus is best. So I’m trusting that I am doing the right thing. But it’s really, really hard.
