Fear of Failure

My breastfeeding story is one for the books, and after trying to hard to figure out exactly how to explain the whole experience (although still on going), I feel it is one to be shared.

When I was pregnant, how I was going to feed my baby seemed to be everyones business. Strangers, friends, family, everyone wanted to know "if I was going to bottle feed, or breastfeed?"

Looking back on it now, I feel like there is so much pressure being pregnant and having a child. Everyone has an opinion, and everyone's advice is always the right thing to do. They make it known, and solicited or not, they will give it. I know I too have been guilty of giving "advice," both solicited and unwelcome, and to anyone whom I have offended with such, I am so very sorry. It can be so overwhelming, and when you're pregnant, and beyond hormonal it can almost always be hurtful or worrisome.

Anyways, my mother's experience with breastfeeding was not the easiest. She wasn't able to nurse for very long because her supply ran out, and it was her fear that the same would happen to me. Having some health issues myself, I still wanted to breastfeed, but with the thoughts, opinions, fears, worries, advice of so many, my head was not in the right place. I was already worrying that I would be unable to produce enough milk to nurse exclusively, and my babe wasn't even born yet.

I was doubting myself, and my body, and really not giving myself the chance. I had a strong fear of failing. I didn't want to fail my son or my husband with an inability to do something a woman should be able to do. That pressure is a load to bear, let me tell ya.

So, every night I would pray that I would be able to nurse. Sharing such a strong and important bond with my child was so incredibly important to me, and it still is. I wanted it so bad, despite all the negativity surrounding it. I prayed, and prayed, and didn't stop praying until I held my son for the first time. They handed him to me, and when I say he instantly tried to latch I am not kidding. As soon as they gave him to me, he smelt me, knew I was his momma, and went for the boob. I was still wearing my gown, but that didn't stop him. Mouth gaping, I smiled and cried. My prayers had been heard. He heard me. You heard me. I pulled down my dress, and within seconds, he was latched like a champ. No one had to show me or him how. It was instinct. It didn't hurt me like people had warned. It wasn't sore. It was so natural for us. I know that it was only because I went with a humble heart, and a strong desire to do what was best for my little, in prayer that such a miracle was provided.

I cherish the nursing sessions nine months later just as much as the very first moment. I love when he falls asleep on me while nursing. I adore the comfort it gives him. The bond we have because of nursing is unlike anything else. It is amazing, and from this whole experience I have learned that my body can do anything. That I am capable of success and have to allow myself to be successful without fearing failure. I think fear is the start of failure, and if you fear it, it will come.

As mothers I know we can do anything. Sure, it will take time, faith, prayer, and a humble heart, maybe even years of patience, but through the trials of life come our biggest opportunities to grow better and stronger.