ETA: My baby is six months old and definitively not a boy. But I still wanted to put up all these pregnancy posts, as written, so I’m scheduling them to post twice a week for the month.

 

Breastfeeding seems like the least magical part of having a baby to me. For as hippy dippy and pro-all things natural and listen-to-your-body as I am, this is the one thing I know I *should* want to do, but don’t.

I will. I know all the benefits. I know it’s going to be good for my baby’s health and immune system, I know my baby’s brain will develop better in this first months, I know it will help me lose weight, I know it promotes bonding between the mother and the child, I know it’s practical.

But.

But.

I don’t want to feel like a cow. Just thinking about it makes me feel like a cow.

Moo.

I want my body back. I want my body to be my own. I like sharing this space with my little lion right now because it’s a predetermined amount of time, I can handle anything if there is a mental limit to it. Nine months and done. I will get through it and I will enjoy it.

I’m giving myself a three month minimum for breast feeding. Though, who knows? I may not be able to breast feed at all because I have fake boobs. We won’t know until that time comes. I cross my fingers that I can, just because if not, it will be very unnecessarily expensive and formula isn’t my first option for the baby when he’s tiny.

Some women love breastfeeding. Some women want to do it for as long as possible, they don’t want to let their child go when the time comes, insisting on how it’s natural and beautiful for their five year old with teeth to be suckling the teat.

But I hate people needing things from me. I have 30 brides a year needing lots of things from me, I have 100 Kayra members a month needing things from my, I have a staff of 10 at the gym needing things from me. The pressure consumes me.

I know this doesn’t bode well for having a child. A baby who needs me constantly in order to LIVE. I don’t know how I’m going to handle it, the only thing I can pray and hope is that the love overwhelms me and that I have the rest of my life managed well enough that the little one’s needs can be my first priority and I can give myself a break with the rest of it for a bit.

But I need this baby to also be able to need from his father. And that requires bottles.