Why Breast-Feeding Makes One Mom Squeamish
Exclusively. Not a single drop of formula ever touched her lips; she was weaned to cow's milk after her first birthday. But -- and this isn't something you'll hear many moms who chose to nurse say -- I never really wanted to.
And now that I'm pregnant with No. 2, even though I have a solid year of breast-feeding under my belt (or, more accurately, my bra), I'm having the same doubts about nursing I did the first time around.
When I was pregnant with E, the thought of breast-feeding grossed me out. I knew it was better for the baby, that it would help with the bonding process, that there were significant health benefits for me.
I'm a very private person, however -- I don't like to be naked even when I'm alone. I'm uncomfortable with bodily fluids, messes, things that leak and public exposure. No matter how many times I tried to envision peaceful moments with a new baby cradled in my arms and nourishing her with my breasts, all I could picture was a dairy cow. Moo.
Pregnancy was enough of a physical sacrifice. I just wanted to be myself again, not a baby incubator or a milk-making machine. Still, I did the research and committed to six weeks -- the minimum amount of time, my doctor assured me, necessary for important antibodies to get transferred from me to the baby.
Read the rest of the story, by Jenny Feldon, at Parenting.com.
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