"For all practical purposes..."

This was the beginning of a sentence recently said to me. This certain sentence gave me goosebumps, made me cry, and has been the most profound thing said to me in a long time.

Here is the backstory: When I was pregnant with my oldest I knew that I wanted to breastfeed more than anything in the world. My mother had breastfed my siblings and I and I assumed that it would be a piece of cake for me. Women were made to do this, I thought. K came into the world and latched on without issue. Life was good! We continued this perfect dance for almost 3 days before my new "hobby" came to a screeching halt. My milk came in and suddenly he refused the breast. I became inadequate overnight and lost this bond with my new baby. I tried everything known to man to try and make it work. No gadget, no technology, not even the tons of praying that I did was enough to fix it.

I drug myself into the lactation consultant's office daily. She taught me different holds, different techniques and finally said the words that I had feared most. "You might have a milk imbalance. That might be the reason for his fussiness at the breast. Try pumping milk and bottle feeding him and then try breastfeeding in between." I was scared, nervous, and unsure so I followed every word she said. Only that first bottle between his lips had sealed our fate. He never came back to the breast. He was content being bottlefed and I felt like a failure. I continued to exclusively pump breastmilk for him for seven months before I lost my milk completely to a bad case of mastitis.

As I sit here writing this the tears are welling in my eyes. I remember the anger of knowing other mothers were lovingly breastfeeding their newborns and here I was attached to this plastic invader. Instead of being able to bond with my child I had to sit there "bonding" to the cold, dead plastic. I remember trying to sing to him while he screamed in his swing as I pumped. I remember the depression from having to feed him formula once my milk ran out.

I bet you are wondering how the title sentence fits into this story. Well I have tried to forgive myself for all 20 months of my toddlers life. I have tried to tell myself that I did the best that I could and that I couldn't have done anything better or different.

With the birth of my newest son I felt that lump of guilt rising in my throat once again. I prayed that I would be able to truly breastfeed him without issue. He latched after birth and continued to latch easily for days. And then my worst nightmare was put on repeat again. Once my milk came in; he refused me. This horrible feeling of terror sat in my stomach like a heavy stone and I went back to the lactation consultant. I haden't seen her for almost 2 years and yet she knew my face as soon as she walked into the room. I told her about my new son and then told her about our trouble breastfeeding. She helped me with different latches, taught me some newer techniques and we did some talking. This was the beginning of the conversation that has since changed my life. "How did the breastfeeding go with K?", she asked. "I was unsuccessful." I said. "I exclusively pumped for seven months before losing my milk altogether." I felt sad again suddenly and felt pressure in my cheeks. I wanted to cry but I didn't want to cry in front of her. I pushed back my tears, lowered my head, and waited for her response. She smiled at me and said "Well, for all practical purposes you DID breastfeed successfully. He received breastmilk for seven months and it's hard to maintain your supply with a pump only. Great job" I swallowed hard and felt my throat tighten. I couldn't believe it. I realized that I had technically breastfed my son. It may not have been the way that I had always imagined but he had survived solely on my milk for the first seven months of his life and I had worked hard to make that happen. Suddenly, all of the hard feelings, guilt, and pain that I had associated with breastfeeding was taken away. I was able to appreciate what I had done for my son and knew that I could push harder and make this work with my new boy. I am happy to report that we are on day number eight and the breastfeeding is going well! How lucky am I? :)

G IS HERE!!!!!

He has arrived. To be completely honest, he was born 5 days ago. (I have been busy) It all started with a gush. I wanted my water to break so badly. I told everyone that I wanted it to break somewhere unusual...like in a restaurant or store. I WANTED to be able to scream "Oh...my water just BROKE..." It ended up being much less theatrical though. It was more like "Uh oh, should I start wearing Depends?" Luckily, it turned out that my water did break and the little man was coming. 12 hours almost to the minute later he was in my arms. 5 fingers, 5 toes....perfection. He is sweet, gorgeous, loving, snuggly and simply....perfect. I know, I know, I am biased but that is because I am the mommy! :)