Six months!
What a milestone! We have finally reached six months - the euphoric point at which my burden of baby feeding drops tremendously with the introduction of solids. We are entering the glorious era of “dual fuel,” in which I don’t have to worry about always making sure husband knows which bottle in the fridge is the next for consumption - and bribing him to deal with the trauma of trying to get Annika to take it - before I take ANY time at all for myself. But now - baby’s hungry and Mama’s not around? Mash that baby some banana and call it good! Part of why nursing for the first six months is so exhausting for me is the mental weight of knowing that baby nutrition is 100% my responsibility - ergo, if she doesn’t gain weight, it’s my fault. While that’s of course not true, it’s how I end up feeling, and the responsibility always feels very heavy to me - I really have to be on my game, and I don’t get any breaks EVER. Even if I’m not nursing, I’m managing pumping, so it’s not a break