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The reality of hating breastfeeding

I sat on the couch today, staring at my son from across the room. He slept peacefully in his swing, finally content after daddy calmed him because I couldn't.

For the hundredth time I said "I hate breastfeeding. I can't wait to be done."

Tears rolled down my face and as my beautiful daughter wiped them away, I contemplated picking up formula again today.

Moments earlier I had nursed him and as always, he screamed. He swallowed air, got mad at the intensity of my letdown, was frustrated that the flow slowed, was mad I stopped to burp him, pulled off time and time again..

That is what breastfeeding is for us. Never does it end in a content baby. Never does it end in peaceful sleep. Never does he get "milk drunk". And never ever does he smile at the breast.

Until today.

He woke up and I cringed because I didn't want to feed him again. I didn't want to deal with the inevitable teeth grinding pain in my nipple or the swallowing air or the frustration or the constant burping or the screaming..

Especially the screaming.

But there was none of that this time. In that moment there was only beauty in his sweet smiles. This moment made it all worth it. Maybe tomorrow there will be more screaming. But maybe there will also be more smiles