Being a Mom is completely worth it despite the daily frustrations and sleepless nights. Most days are full of giggles and fun, but holy crap, last night completely sucked and today I reached a point where I felt defeated. Here's my blog vent for the day: The past few weeks have been tougher than usual in that Griffin's sleep and eating habits have all changed and I can't seem to get back the consistency I once had. I've lost count of the tough moments where I feel stumped and just don't know what to try next.
These days Griff turns his head in disgust when I try to spoon feed him the same pear and peas puree that he enthusiastically scarfed down the day before. He's become 20% picky about what he eats, a change that is hard for me to swallow (pun intended). It seems like every-other-night, he screams bloody murder when I put him to bed, and I can't even remember the last time he (and I) truly slept through the night. I'm tired. Every time something isn't perfect, I go through all of the reasoning and thoughts in my head: maybe he's teething, no, it's growth spurt, he's adjusting from starting daycare, it's because he now realizes he misses me at night, I should sleep train, let him cry it out, no, go to him because he's sick and his breathing is loud, take him into bed to settle him down, but that will establish a bad pattern, give him 15 more minutes, he's growing out of purees, no it's the combination I'm trying, he's getting too addicted to Cheerios, he's not nursing well, and he's biting me, he's hungry at night, and I'm not making enough milk, I should pump more, try other finger foods, go back to purees, maybe it's the temperature of the food... who knows!
So all of these frustrations led to today: A few hours ago, I buckled and gave Griffin his first few ounces of formula, ever. I've made it 10 and a half months of full time breastfeeding, and I feel disappointed for letting him taste something other than my own milk so late in the game. Granted, he didn't like it and only drank about an once, but it still felt like I'd run all the way to mile 26 of a marathon, and then had to walk instead of sprint the last .2 miles to the finish line. I know a ton of people who give their babies formula- it's no big deal, and I recognize that it's a huge accomplishment to have even nursed Griff so long. I think it comes down to the fact that I wasn't able to be the one to decide if or when Griffin had formula, like I was being forced to by circumstances, and I now realize that I may have to stop breastfeeding (or slow down) sooner than I wanted. I suck at admitting when I need help, or can't do something by myself, and this is totally one of those times.
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