Two months ago, I was struggling with a major parenting decision, my first major parenting decision. The answer was clear, but I was fighting it to the end. Okay, okay, this post is about breastfeeding. I originally thought this was too personal to share, but this blog IS personal. It’s about my journey, so here we go…If you are in a judgy mood, go ahead and and scroll up to the top of your computer screen and click that little x in the right hand corner and go find another blog to read.
I knew when I got pregnant, that breastfeeding was hugely important to me. You know how I feel about clean eating, and it just goes along with that philosophy. I knew that it was going to be more difficult with twins, but I was ready to tackle it. Anyway, I’ll spare you all the details, but after 3 months of exclusively breastfeeding twins, I had to make the decision to stop. It was emotional and awful and I was a complete mess for about 2 weeks (okay, let’s be honest, I was a complete mess for the entire 3 months). All I wanted was to do the best thing I could for my little girls. I had my OB and my lactation consultant telling me that this was just not working out and I needed a new plan, but I had put so much pressure on myself. Not to mention the insane amount of pressure that society puts on new moms. Everywhere I went I would have strangers asking me “Are you breastfeeding” and I would proudly say “Yes” when I should have said “That’s none of your fucking business.” I was wearing it as a badge of honor to trick myself into thinking that what I was putting myself through was okay. And then, I get an email from my Dad, the smartest man alive.
Subject: Breastfeeding and airplanes
On an airplane they tell the parents that, in the event of an emergency, they should first put the oxygen mask on themselves before they take care of their children. This instruction is based on the common sense notion that the parent’s ability to take care of the child flows from the well being of the parent.
Get the message?
First of all, my dad is my hero. Second of all, it is so annoying that he is ALWAYS fucking right. But that’s when it all became clear. I wasn’t listening to my body. I wasn’t doing what was best for my family (even though by breastfeeding I was trying to do the best thing for my family) Ironic, right? I wrote a post a while back joking about Miles saying “happy wife, happy life” but the same thing goes for my babies. I am the hub of this family, and I need to be okay for this family unit to work.
Obviously, this post is not about breastfeeding, it’s about self care. And the truth is, I know better. As a trainer, the majority of my clients would come to me as a last resort. Most are moms, and they had put themselves last on the priority list for so long and were finally ready to take a stand and take care of themselves again. I preached self care to all of these people, and for some reason I couldn’t see it clearly for myself.