I had it all worked out. When Meg was around 7 months, my breastmilk supply inexplicably dropped and I spent two months killing myself trying to get it back. Those were probably the darkest months of my life. Nothing I did worked. My supply continued to drop and when she turned 9 months old I finally quit trying. Just mixing that first bottle of formula gave me so much relief I vowed to NEVER DO THAT AGAIN (the attempted supply-boosting thing, I mean, not the formula mixing).
So it would be easy! If I had supply problems after the six month mark with Paul, I’d just let it taper off. No pumping for 45 minutes at a time! No using ounces pumped to measure my self worth! How hard can it be to do nothing? Certainly not harder than doing EVERYTHING, right?
Well, maybe. Last time I thought: I have a problem, but there’s got to be something I can do about it. Pumping for hours was grueling, but I had focus. I was working on it. I had hopes things would get better. This time there’s nothing to do. The supply-boosting stuff didn’t work last time anyway, so why try? All I have to do is wait it out as my supply drops a couple ounces a week and pull out the tub of formula I so thoughtfully bought for myself soon after Paul was born as a reminder to not let supply problems get to me again.
I thought putting all my efforts into something and failing day-in, day-out was why I’d been so miserable. It didn’t occur to me it was the weaning hormones themselves. Which is why they’ve once again blindsided me. My supply dropped again, right at the 7 month mark, seemingly overnight, and for no apparent reason. This time I feel even worse, if that’s possible.
I’ve spent the last few weeks wondering if I should tweet/blog about my new theory: if you’re of childbearing age, you’re completely fucked. (Pardon the language.) Having children has ruined my life. But if I couldn’t have children, the not having them would ALSO have ruined my life. Ergo, fucked.*
I finally figured out today that was the hormones talking. Perhaps my life is not permanently ruined! Things might…get better! Soon-ish, even. TOTAL BREAKTHROUGH.
But…what do I do in the meantime? How long do I have to hold out? He’ll be 9 months next week and I don’t see things improving that quickly. Should I just wean completely? I don’t think Mr. I’m Still on a Bottle Strike (did I not mention that here?) will go for that.
Last time I woke up one morning and everything was better. I just want to know when that will be.
*Apparently a bit of depression brings out the ‘why bother not swearing on the blog?’ in me. First f-bombs ever!