Pavlov's Baby

I've noticed something recently. My child is conditioned to the sounds of bottle-making. He immediately turns his head towards the sink when he hears the water turn on. His eyes widen in anticipation when the container of formula is opened. And the drool begins to flow when he hears the magical sound of the bottle being shaken. He knows that this is all part of meal time, and soon he gets to gorge himself. In fact, if he does not get the bottle soon after hearing all of these sounds, he starts to get panicky. The arms flail, the head goes back, and the snorting begins. Yes, my son snorts when he is hungry and not being fed. This reaction repeats itself (but even more drastically) when his feeding is interrupted so that he can be burped. It's like he's convinced that we'll never give the bottle back to him and he's going to starve to death.

I have to say that with everything I've gone through over the last 3 months, it is nice to be bottle-feeding Dean. It is convenient, I do not have to deal with privacy issues, and I don't have to have Dean with me everywhere I go in case he needs to eat...but I am missing out on something so special. It is so hard to know that I am not needed in that way anymore. I am a caregiver, not a life-sustainer. That is very hard. I am so thankful for the recovery that I have had and for the health of my baby, but I DAILY mourn the loss of breastfeeding (as well as my right breast). It's hard to think that I will likely never even have the opportunity to try again with our next child. I keep wanting to plead, "I'll be better next time! I won't push myself too hard, I promise!" But it is for selfish reasons that I want it back, not because I think Dean is at risk. I have faith in modern day formula and medicine and I know that God has His hand on him at all times, but it's hard to see other women getting to do what I can not. I am in a women's bible study and there are 5 others in the 40-person group that have babies Dean's age. They all are breast-feeding. One woman came up to me yesterday while I was giving Dean a bottle and said, "You don't know how lucky you are." I wanted to shake her and scream, "You don't know how lucky YOU are!" But she's right, I am lucky. I went through something horrible and wonderful. I taught me that God knows what I need and what I can handle, not me. I came out no less a woman, no less a mother. I actually get to tell my son (although I think it would be awkward later in life) that his mom gave her right breast for him. I would do it all over again if it meant that he came out the way he did. I love my Pavlov's Baby!