The thing with guilt is: IT'S A BLOODY BITCH!!!
As I see it, guilt is like a giant, enormous and invisible spider on your back. It's huge, but because it is invisible, only you can feel the burden of its weight and everybody else around you wonders why it's bothering you!
For sure as hell, they can't see it, so they don't know what it's like to feel guilty about something.
Today is an apt day to write about guilt, because today, I feel guilty.
Yes, I indeed chomped away on a pizza, but that's not what's killing me on the inside.
I did something awful, but I shall munch on that guilt myself.
Going back to the past...
This guilt was at work then as well. Breastfeeding was turning out to be a nightmare. Nobody at my place understood what I was going through. They probably thought I was selfish for trying again and again to get little P to feed from me, get him all worked up, and then give up and feed him formula!
Might as well have given it to him in the first place, dumbass!!!
And then...
The doorbell rang...
My saviour had arrived!!! And no, no pizza this time!
It was the breast pump I had ordered! Woohoo! Hello, watermelons, whatcha gonna do now, eh?!
So, off I went, on a date with the pump. Now, this breast pump is the UNSEXIEST THING ever invented for those ladies.
Not even the largest, ugliest maternity bra comes close to this ugly monster which goes grrr grrr when you put it on to you! It's a horror show, alright!
Any hoo... This wasn't a workable solution. Firstly, my milk was quickly drying up because nothing can possibly suckle and remove milk from a breast the way a baby can. Do not underestimate the power of a baby's suckle!
Moreover, it would take me ages to get tiny amounts of milk and the whole process was so damn frustrating.
I was losing trust in my own body and its ability to take care of something that it had created. I mean, what good a mother was I, who couldn't feed her own baby.
The pediatrician's words had killed me. I was ready to die. I was ready to do anything.
At times like these, the mother-in-law sure has some ideas up her sleeve.
When I said anything, I meant anything except garlic. I seriously hate those bastards! And guess who knew that...?! ;)
Sure enough, a lovely concoction was prepared. This was no concoction, it was the juice of a million garlic pods crushed to death and fed to me, so I could die. The husband pinched my nose and almost sat on top of me, lest I kick him you-know-where. And the MIL, ah bless her! She poured a GLASS FULL OF GARLIC JUICE down my throat!!!
Frankly speaking, I don't know what worked. My pigheadedness, the stupid effing garlic "concoction" or just God's will, but one day, I randomly decided to pop little P on, and VOILA!!!
Guess what, he happily guzzled away!
Hooray! Just like that, my worries all faded as he fed...
And fed...
And fed...
And fed...
And then some more...
