I hated breastfeeding. HATED IT.
I hated it from the moment my son first painfully latched on until the moment, 57 long days later, when I’d decided I’d had enough and switched to the bottle. I hated every second of every feeding of every day. What a way to waste the first two months of my son’s life.
Breastfeeding has somehow become some sort of qualification for being a good – or even decent – mother. Forgiveness is giving to those moms who attempt to breastfeed, but are unable, but the rest of us? Those who choose to feed our offspring factory produced milk rather than providing our own? We’re villainized for it. At least it feels that way.