I think that my days as milk cow are numbered. Vivian's still on her nursing strike. I'll try to nurse her and she utterly refuses, only to happily grab the bottle a few minutes later after I pump milk for her. She rarely gets bottles, so I find this a little weird, but whatever. Unfortunately, my pumping is not keeping up with what she wants to eat from the bottles, and I'm quickly going through what we had in the freezer, so a decision needs to be made soon.
Truth is, I don't like nursing. Never did. Never felt particularly bonded, never had the magic weight loss with nursing. In fact, whenever I do try to lose weight, my milk supply plummets, so I've not really been able to try to lose much. And, since I'm fairly busty, I've always had a hard time nursing discreetly in public, especially when my kids got to the age when they decided it was more fun to play peek-a-boo with the nursing cover than eat happily under it.
That all being said, I have the utmost admiration and respect for moms who are able to breastfeed their babies to a year or more and who enjoy doing it. Or who don't enjoy doing it and keep going anyway. I'll probably keep up the 5 and 8 AM nursing sessions for a while yet, since she will nurse at those, but I'm thinking 8 months old is going to be a good time to introduce formula for the other feeding sessions. Especially since we have our trip to the Olympics in a few weeks, and I'm not terribly enthused at the idea of trying to figure out how to get my baby to focus on eating in a hockey stadium filled with thousands of screaming fans. Bottle feeding will also be challenging, I'm sure, but at least I wont be semi-topless for the process.
This means bra shopping is in my future! I'm so burning these industrial-strength, white nursing bras when I'm done with them. CANNOT wait.