I see you breastfeeding your baby, and I’m eaten up with jealousy.
I hear you discuss co sleeping. Complain about cluster feeding. Worry about nursing in public. And I want to scream in your face: *You have no idea how blessed you are*. I long for late night feeding, unlatching a biter, giving my ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ face to disgusted members of the public as I nurse in a cafe. I’d give anything to look down at Moo, stroke her cheek, listen to her soft breathing, sucking and swallowing. I even get jealous of mamas with beautiful nursing jewellery.
I’ve cried, I’ve prayed, I’ve screamed into a pillow. I’ve blogged, I’ve researched, I’ve offloaded onto friends and family. But I’m still jealous. I’m hurt, I’m sad, I’m angry, I’m bitter, I’m heart broken. I’m sick to death of feeling this way. I’m sick of moaning about the same shit. It’s been almost two years, I’m tired of it.
Beautiful breastfeeding photos fill my heart with joy. But it’s bittersweet. I never had, or will have, moments like those. The closest I got was ten seconds of suckling, sleepy, in the middle of the night. Those ten precious seconds of absolute bliss, tinged with the knowledge that it wouldn’t last.
It’s OK. It’s OK that I feel this way. I won’t always feel like this, will I? One day the hurt will fade. Infant feeding will be a distant memory. I’ll be busy with school plays and homework and strops and zits. This will all seem a lifetime ago, insignificant in the grand scheme of motherhood. Right?
Sending huge love to all the mamas feeling this way tonight. You are not alone.