From the featured blog, Growing Up…Townsend Style!
When I got pregnant with my first child in November of 2001, the only fresh example of parenting I had was my aunt and uncle, who at that point in time had their three children ages 7, 6, and 3.
I, of course, had my own example of parenting from my mother, but I don’t remember any of my “baby” years, nor do I remember my brother‘s. I’d witnessed my aunt and uncle happily brining home all three girls from the hospital and my aunt breastfeeding and pumping with all three. When I began my own journey into parenthood, I immediately decided on breastfeeding. My aunt told me it was best. My uncle, a pediatrician, told me the benefits such as less allergies and higher IQ. Did I want the best for this little person my body was building? Of course I did. Was breastfeeding the right choice for me? Yes, I believe it was.
Fast forward to August 28, 2002. At 3:17PM, I’m formally introduced to my beautiful baby boy, Ethan. Our first nursing session goes beautifully. I love cuddling this soft, warm little person to my chest as he happily nurses. The next day, we are discharged and head home to continue our bonding. In preparation for my breastfeeding journey, I purchased a pump and very few bottles. I didn’t want to hinder myself in the process of establishing a healthy breastfeeding bond with my baby, so I didn’t purchase any formula, and refused the samples they offered us in the hospital. Would it have been easier in my sleep deprived state to grab a pre-made bottle and slap a nipple on it? Sure. But, was it the best? Not in my mind.
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