For four years I walked hand-in-hand with jealousy.
It’s something I consciously struggled with, constantly talking myself off the ledge after letting myself know I wasn’t being rational. The notion still lived in my body deep down.
It all stemmed from feeling like a failure at breastfeeding.
When Fox toed the line of failure to thrive, I had to stop trying.
Remember those beautiful images breastfeeding mamas were posting of the tree of life several years back? Those always felt like a kick in the gut, even though I wanted to be happy for their successes. This isn’t something I’m proud of, but rather something I felt I couldn’t control. These feelings helped send me on my way through postpartum depression and scared me enough to wait four years between babies.
When he finally did arrive, Charlie came out quite literally reaching for a boob.
Even though breastfeeding hasn’t been easy, I’m so grateful to be able to experience it this time around.
I’m writing this as a way to reach out to the mamas who can’t breastfeed their children. To give hope that it could happen in the future. To let you know you’re not a failure — you’re a mom who is doing their very best. To let you know that there’s zero difference in the bond I have between my two boys, regardless of how they were fed.