As a woman our body was created for all of these things and I wanted to experience them. One of the things I said from the beginning was that I wanted to breastfeed. Not only because of the nutrients but also for the bonding experience. The first few days my milk supply hadn’t come in, but being that I wasn’t with Asher at the hospital he still needed to eat. So the nurse went over the options for how he would get his nutrients until mama was able to supply. Formula was an option but they insisted on donors milk…
As I process – My son will be getting his milk from a strangers body? Another woman, not a can or powder, but another woman. He’s not in the world but a few hours and yet I’m depending on someone I’ll never actually meet to give my son something that he needs. Let the mommy guilt continue, but putting my feelings aside, I needed to do what was best for him. Besides, I’ll be ready to go in a few days and this will just be a temporary situation.
Days went on, after all of the attempts from classes, teas, milks, supplements… not a single drop. Seeing women come in and out of the milk bank with containers of milk was discouraging at times not to mention although the nurses meant well I felt shame when they would come with this smile asking eagerly, any milk today? Eventually, this became part of what our story was. Now looking back I’m thankful for the women whose name I’ll never know but for their supply that helped my son grow. For it was all part of Gods will, not my own. Our bond is still strong just in our own way, which to me is much sweeter.
