I’m watching Ian feed Thomas from a bottle for the very first time and I have very mixed feelings.

It’s my breastmilk he’s getting. And I’ve sat here and nagged Ian that we really need to try properly feeding properly from a bottle (i.e. a whole feed and not finishing up on me) sorted out. I was the one who was adamant that we were doing it this weekend. Much as I love breastfeeding my son, knowing that I’m providing for him, sustaining him and making him grow, and as important as it is to me, it is also a major tie. I’ve got a couple of events coming up where it would be good to be able to leave him for just a few hours and not worry that he’ll need feeding when I’m not there. Ultimately I’ll be going back to work and while he may be able to transition to sippy cup by then, I still need to feel confident he’ll be happy taking milk from another source before he goes to nursery. I know, I’m getting way ahead of myself here, but these are the thoughts that run trough my brain during middle-of-the-night feeds. I suppose that most of all, I need to try to relieve some of the anxiety that is plaguing me about being the only person who can provide for my son. It’s making me feel under pressure.

So on the one had I feel happy and relieved to see it going well.

But on the other hand, I feel sort of sad.

I want him to be able to cope without me there. But at the same time, I want him to need me.

It’s a conflict. Is this what motherhood is like?


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