I regret to inform you that after only one month of a very contentious relationship, (four weeks, four days and a couple of hours, actually) I no longer need your services.
It's nothing personal, really, I just feel as though we've grown apart and I honestly cannot be attached to you five or six times a day.
So many people have tried to convince me otherwise, lecturing incessantly on the benefits that a year or more of nursing provides, but I feel like I have to simply go with my gut on this one.
For the record, I know that breast milk is nature's most perfect food, I am completely aware of the bonding that occurs between mom and baby during the process and I've been fully schooled on the allergy and asthma prevention that nursing provides. But all of the pain, infection and general life consumption tell me it's time to part ways. I know I sound like a monster, but seriously, that cannot be what these things were made for.
My daughter said it perfectly the other day when she cried out in defiance over losing her best friend to the Medela Pump In Style: "I need my mommy back," she sobbed, when I put off playing, baths and lunch for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. "You were so much nicer before the baby made you use that machine."
Yes, I am consumed with guilt and worry every second that this little newborn munchkin is getting all the nutrition he needs. But I'm firm believer that God fortified Similac with iron for a reason. And the time I've regained with my daughter is priceless.
So I'm calling it quits and will stuff you back in the closet until we bring another possible Gorman into this world. (But don't get your hopes up.) Until then, I will not think of you at all. Eventually the guilt will subside, but in the meantime I'm cooking up some spicy food and having a cocktail.
No dumping necessary.