Pump, pump, pump it up

Ever since Ava decided to suck at breastfeeding, I've been exclusively pumping for four months. It's about as fun as it sounds.

In the beginning, I pumped every 2 or 3 hours, which was SUPER disruptive to anything and everything.

Then, I stretched it out to every 4 hours.

Then I stretched it our more. And more. And more.

By the time I went back to works, I was pumping every 12 hours -- just twice a day. It's been awesome. The only problem is that I get only six to eight ounces each session, whereas before I would get ten, minimum (many times a day).

So, this means that I'm not producing enough milk to keep up with Ava's feedings. The good news? We had TONS of frozen milk saved from my early days. The bad news? That supply is running low too.

Ava has had formula before (her first few days of life, while we were waiting for my supply to come in, and also a few weeks ago when we didn't bring enough frozen stuff to Cleveland for Thanksgiving). We'd mixed formula with breast milk and haven't had a problem.

So why the shit do I feel guilty about our inevitable switch to all formula?

Breastfeeding is such a polarizing thing, so I think I've just had too much exposure to all of the breastfeeding nazis out there who judge everyone, as well as the women who breastfeed until their kids are old enough to say, "Boob, please. I'm hungry now, mother."

It's just not in the cards for us. And that's FINE. Ava's not going to forget math because I slipped her some Similac for a few months. To each her own, right?

Right...