When I was in the throes of my severe postpartum depression I was forced to wean my son unexpectedly.
This was a crushing blow to my already fragile psyche. I had breastfed my daughter for 18 months. I felt lost in so many ways, but I had my boobs. My boobs were doing their job, even when I felt shaky about the rest of my role.
What I did not realize, then, was that I was doing my job in all ways. I was suffering, yes, but I was still a great mom. Why? Because I fed my son. I fed him from my breast. I fed him from the disposable Gerber bottles given to me at the hospital. I fed him in the morning, and I fed him at night, and even when I was not the one feeding him I made sure that there were people around who could.
When I was at my worst, someone said something to me that I will never forget:
It is better for your baby to have a mom without a boob than a boob without a mom.
She was right. However you are feeding your baby, that is the best way. Whether it is breastmilk, formula, bottles or boobs, fed is best.
