Your son informed me (though he probably shouldn’t have) about your phone conversation on Sunday. I’m just not sure how this topic keeps coming up over and over again, particularly since it’s none of your business.
No, I am not breastfeeding my son (in the way you’d like me to). I tried. I tried every day, 8 times a day for FIVE weeks. And do you know how many times he latched on (without a nipple shield because that was just a disaster)? Four. Four times in five weeks and every single one of those times required the assistance of at least one other adult to trick him into latching by dribbling formula down my breast.
And yes, I know you firmly believe this is my fault, and maybe it is. Maybe it was the epidural I got, the one I do not regret at all because it gave me the rest I needed to help deliver him. Maybe it was because at a week old we switched from the tube feeding to bottle feeding with a “breastfeeding bottle”, which was a necessary evil to help Eli develop the right facial/sucking muscles. I really don’t know, but saying over and over again that every woman can breastfeed isn’t helping. I can breastfeed, Elijah doesn’t want to. I know you know that.
And honestly, it doesn’t matter. Because a) these are my breasts and they are NONE of your business and b) he is my child and I am taking care of him. And the fact that you continue to bring this up over and over again, despite the fact that I am pumping 8 times a day to get him breast milk, which, guess what? Is the same thing he’d get if he was breastfeeding, makes me want to scream. At you. The reason we’re not going to visit you this weekend isn’t because we have other plans, it’s because I don’t have the self control to not scream at you. To not physically throttle you with my bare hands.
Repeatedly bringing up my inadequate supply, which yes, we all know is because he never latched and I didn’t get the proper stimulation, is just unnecessary. You don’t think it makes me upset? Oh wait, of course you know that. But for some reason you still need to bring it up, to dig it in, while I am here doing my best. Just like how you needed to mock me for giving up dairy, AT THE DIRECTION OF THE PEDIATRICIAN, when you thought I couldn’t hear you down the hall. Guess what, your voice carries, especially when you’re not even trying to be quiet.
And furthermore, I do not I need to hear your parenting advice. 2 of your 5 children don’t acknowledge your presence in the universe, I’m sorry, but you are HARDLY the authority on good parenting. You’re much more of a cautionary tale.
So here’s the bottom line. I’m done. This is not your business. It won’t be discussed by you to me or my husband any longer. The next time it’s brought up you will get a curt warning and if you don’t stop, we will leave or you will be kicked out, depending upon the venue. My breasts are not your business. My son’s eating habits are not your business. I have been polite to you as long as I can and you cannot afford me the same consideration, so I’m done.
If you want to have a relationship with your grandson, you’ll stop criticizing me and my parenting. I will not have my child exposed to that kind of venom, I’ve seen first hand the damage it can do and I won’t let that happen to another generation. Grow up and get off your high horse before you lose out on your grandson’s childhood.