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At some point I became a militant breast milk lady. When I was 4 months pregnant I read a book called Skinny Bitch: Bun in the Oven about nutrition during pregnancy. It talked a lot about the benefits of breast feeding and the negatives about formula. There was one line that really stuck with me… something about how there’s never been a recall on breast milk. Wow. As I continued to get educated about breast milk I became fascinated with this perfect food created by God and petrified of the food made and packaged in a factory… Formula. That’s when “Formula” became the new “F word” in my house.

Despite all my trials and tribulations with breast feeding (and there were many) I never let go of my commitment to it and my aversion to the F word. Well, this week was Junebug’s 6 month birthday and to celebrate the occasion I caved … I gave in to the F word. Keeping up with my job and exclusively feeding breast milk to my baby became incredibly overwhelming. If I don’t get home on time to give her that evening boob sandwich things go to hell in a hand basket pretty quick because I have no surplus of milk… I’m hanging by an ounce. It’s like living paycheck to paycheck… like the stress of having your rent due the day you get paid.

Pumping once before work, 3 times at work and once before going to sleep has become the only way to get through the day. This week the pressure just became too much. A three day all night video shoot became the straw that broke the camel’s back… but here’s what happened…she drank it and she’s ok with it. She still smiles at me, she still nurses and loves me unconditionally and I’m a Mommy who’s no longer living on the edge. I made it a lot farther than I ever thought I would and I think I’m ok with that.