Once, someone asked me how long I breast fed for and I lied. I told them it was months longer than I actually had, because the entire conversation we had there was a toddler hanging off her tits and I was trying to convince Paige she wanted to give me a sip of her Capri Sun and I felt so flustered that I wasn’t offering her some “mommy milk” instead of a sugar lazed fruit drink I got on sale at Target because they looked so damn good sitting there on the shelf.

I’ve talked about breast feeding before, and I’ve spoken of my struggles. My mastis, the pumping I did 100x a day just to feed my kid so she wouldn’t have formula, the pain I felt every single time I looked at my kids lips or my pump or just about anything.  Sometimes I feel this twinges of guilt because I gave up, but I had to. I would feed Paige, pump, and get about 10 minutes of sleep before the whole cycle started over. I did not go to support groups, or call friends to come over and help me fit my huge swollen nipples into Paige’s mouth. Instead I cried and poured bottles of strawberry milk into the sink because I was too grossed out to give them to Paige.

We nick named my husband the breast feeding Nazi because he’s the one who would stand over me and tell me to keep on going — look how smart she’s going to be, she’ll never get ear infections, you won’t get breast cancer. He reminded me of this when I tried to “forget” my pump at home when we went out for the day, or when I sat in a friends living room topless pumping while Paige napped.

But I gave up. I got Paige sucking on formula and I got more sleep and gave my breast pump away.

I plan on breast feeding this new little bean I’m growing. If I can do it for a few months great, if I can swing it for a year awesome! But I’m not going to lie anymore. If someone asks me about Paige’s career as a breast feeder I will tell the truth: that it hurt, that I couldn’t go on. That she’s never had an ear infection or been sick with anything but a common cold. That she used the word “intolerable” the other day so maybe her Enfamil made her a genius.

One of my goals is to get Paige in her bed..permanently. We are co-sleepers to the max, and by 8:30 most nights I’m ready to drop thanks to my pregnant state of being…and drop we do, together, in my bed like two rag dolls who’ve had a day of playing playing playing. I know when the new kid comes co-sleeping is a must, and I don’t think it’s going to be feasible with a toddler, and a momma who’s going to be up. She has a perfectly adorable pink bed, and I just bought her the softest blanket to keep her cozy. And so in her bed she’s gone..kinda…

She keeps FALLING OUT!

The bed is not far from the ground — its a toddler bed at it’s best, and I set up a down comforter so if she does roll out she lands on what is essentially a cloud of feathers. But each night fall she does, and with that comes a piercing cry and a plea to come to our bed because she’s scared. And me? I’m a sucker with a pension for sleeping so I scoop her up, and we snuggle together.  I know one day she’s going to sleep without falling out, but it’s so frustrating that it’s happening to her! And it must be scary to go from sleeping and  dreaming to laying on a floor [as soft as it is] wondering what the hell happened.

So that’s where I’m at. Trying to get the kid to stay in her bed, playing with moon sand every day [love that stuff!] and just being silly and waiting patiently for winter to be over. I have this little daydreams about leaving my back door open and catching the breeze, of going to the park and having picnics and they are lovely, but unattainable when it’s like 12 degrees out and Paige doesn’t want to wear mittens or a hat.