I hated breastfeeding.
There. I said it.
When my triplets were born I experienced some complications and nearly lost my life. My Doctor told me I would likely not be able to breastfeed, but miraculously my body produced enough milk for all 3 babies. It was such a miracle and I was so proud of my body for functioning the way it was supposed to. I came to the NICU everyday with milk that I pumped the night before and I would take turns nursing the triplets hoping to experience “the bond” I often heard about.
When we finally came home with our babies, I pumped exclusively.
The triplets all had GERD, which made feedings stressful because each baby needed individual attention. And I was already so exhausted, pumping didn’t help. But I kept telling myself I needed to do this for my babies. I felt like I would be failing them (and myself) otherwise. A “friend” even told me that “formula is poison.” What a disappointment I would be if I chose to stop.
The weeks continued to go by and I was in a fog. I knew I wasn’t myself. I started to despise breastfeeding and even felt jealous of my husband as he laid in bed while I stuck a machine to my boobs.
There was such a tug-a-war in my heart. I felt so ashamed and embarrassed because I didn’t want to breastfeed anymore.
Guilt can ruin you.
When the babies were 3 months old I finally saw my doctor to seek help for my postpartum anxiety and depression. It was one of the hardest steps, but the best thing I could have done for myself. I needed help. I was exhausted, in a depression, just not my normal self. The very first thing she suggested was to stop breastfeeding. She even wrote me a prescription that said “stop breastfeeding.” I felt like she gave me permission to stop.
