Staring

I have struggled with breastfeeding Teddy since his birth, really. More than anything, I've struggled with my own expectations of breastfeeding.

"I should love breastfeeding my child. It should be easy and natural, and there is no reason I would not breastfeed."

Or so I thought before I had Teddy.

I've come to realize that my expectations are far from reality (imagine that?!), and that breastfeeding is hard. Deciding to supplement with formula, and eventually moving to exclusively feeding him formula, has been even more difficult. I feel like a failure, to put it lightly. My worst, most self-defeating thought, though? "I have failed my child." Does it get any worse than that?

But then, just when I needed it the most, something awesome happened as I sat in a quiet living room, arm propped up by 2 pillows, bottle in hand.

As I memorized his sweet face, chubby cheeks, perfect little hands and let the love for him just be, I realized he was staring at me.



Happily suckling, tiny fingers grasping mine as I supported the bottle, his steel gray-blue eyes fixed on my face and did not move for what felt like forever. "Isn't it lovely that infants haven't learned that it is rude to stare," I read once. This breastfeeding-failure was never so grateful. Because, in that stare, I found peace and love and contentment. No breast needed.