Perspective is powerful.
It’s intricately woven with our emotions, drives our decisions, sets the tone of our day.
It can be full of hope or leave us hopeless.
It really is powerful.
One perspective I didn’t realize was so strongly connected to thoughts about myself is my perspective on breastfeeding.
I consider myself one of the lucky ones that has been able to breastfeed Bennett since he’s been born. No complications with latch or feeding. No issues producing just enough, which has been just enough.
I didn’t realize how much of a miracle and true triumph it really is to have a body blessed to nurture another.
Recently, however, his need has become greater than my ability to give.
I was never against formula for others. I believed that fed is best and commended parents who gave their all to put food on the table (or in this case, the bottle). Babies thrive whether from breast or bottle. I know this. But when I hit the wall and knew he needed more than I could give, it sank in differently.
It became personal. Deeply personal.
Frustration. Sadness. Defeat. Confusion. It was all so overwhelming.
I tried everything. EVERYTHING. Diet, supplements, sleep, on demand feeding.
You name it, I gave it my all.
But when you know, you know. And I just knew. He needed formula and I wasn’t ready.
I didn’t really understand why it hit me so hard at first. But then I realized -- I had been fighting so hard for so long. I had been sacrificing so much of me for someone else. I wouldn’t change this time for the world, but I was beginning to realize that I needed rest.
Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually.
And he needed more food.
It wasn’t all about Bennett’s health, although one would think that with my reactions to the change. I was frustrated with the options on the market. But I was also afraid. Afraid of making the wrong decision on which formula. Afraid how this would affect him now and later in life. Afraid of losing that sweet, intimate bond/time with him. Afraid of feeling like a failure in not hitting my undetermined goal. Afraid of change.
I then read a mamas story about her struggle through a similar time and after making peace with needing to change, she thanked her daughter for giving her the best gift in the world.
I love that. I needed that. And I feel the same. Feeding Bennett has truly been the best gift in the world. And it will continue to be in all the different forms.
A fresh perspective.
I know this won’t be the first time on this journey of motherhood I’ll come to a crossroads and have to make difficult decisions. I now know sometimes though triumph and tears go hand in hand. I’m thankful for the people in my life who helped me see the good in the change and shifted my focus from failure to celebration.
It’s like hiking to the top of a mountain. When you reach the top (if you're like me) you’re exhausted. Out of breath. And HUNGRY (but that's beside the point).
What the reward in the climb?
360 degrees of breathtaking views of a landscape above the clouds. God's masterpiece. You spend the time taking in the accomplishment while resting for the hike back down.
It’s so worth it.
And breastfeeding is so worth it. I’ll continue to give what I can when I can until the day I can no longer. I’ll keep my new perspective of myself and this journey and remain thankful for this short yet sweet time in my life.
In the meantime, and for the first time, however —
I will rest. I need it for the hike back down.
Because for me and for my baby,
Rest is really best.
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