After eight weeks of trying, I decided this week to stop breastfeeding. I’ve mentioned my struggles here before, and thought I had come up with a workable solution. For the last few weeks, I’ve been breastfeeding Rebecca about 80% of the time, and occasionally pumping, with the pumped milk going to Daniel. I tried nursing him from time to time, but while his “latch” became less painful, it was obviously really inefficient, and it became clear he’d never really take a full feeding that way. So one baby was breastfed, one was bottle fed.

But it wasn’t realistic for the long term. I found that not being able to nurse both of them made nursing one of them more difficult. Additionally, though I tried, I found myself very uncomfortable nursing in public (or, really, in front of just about anyone but my husband). It was still taking a lot of effort, so add to that a desire to be discreet, and not to share both my boob and my stretch-marked spare tire with the world, and I started to find breastfeeding much more limiting than I ever imagined it to be. If I was going to be out of the house for a feeding, I had to bring bottles anyways, and then felt the need to get home quickly to pump and make up for the missed nursing session. And nursing one while the other decides to wake up hungry or continually spit out his pacifier is quite a scene. Finally, despite becoming quite competent at latching (except when she decided to scream at my boob), Rebecca was a slow, sleepy, and frequent eater. She’d get cozy and doze off while nursing, so (per LC instructions) I’d take her off and put her down. A couple of minutes later, she’d wake up and remember she wanted to eat some more. Eventually this would end, but then she’d be hungry again two hours later (while her brother ate every 3 hours… great). While this might be doable if she were my only baby, that just isn’t the case.

So, last Wednesday morning, I found myself at the end of my rope. Rebecca was acting hungry and then showing no interest in actually nursing when put near the boob. Add that to the fact that I was feeling convinced that she’d eat more (and gain weight better) if she wasn’t always so cozy and sleepy. I decided to take a little break and just pump for a day or two. I had started questioning how long I could keep up the breastfeeding several days earlier, but this was the first time I stepped back from it. Wednesday was only pumping, Thursday was a combination with nursing. But by Friday night, my pumping sessions went from 2.5-3.5oz down to 1.5oz at the most. It became clear that it was time for a decision: either commit to breastfeeding and re-establish my rapidly dwindling supply, or call it a day and let it go. I opted for the latter.

Sunday morning was my last nursing session with Rebecca (who took another 2oz by bottle when she was done on the boob). I told her so, and let myself have a little cry. While breastfeeding never became as easy or enjoyable as I hoped it might, I couldn’t help but be sad to let go of the dream. I was so determined. I wanted to be able to give that benefit to my babies, I wanted to have the benefits, myself. I did not want to give up. But eight weeks have past, and I’m ready to be done fighting with it.

And so, I wave goodbye to the dream of breastfeeding my twins. The best laid plans just didn’t work out the way I had hoped. Maybe if they hadn’t been in the hospital those extra few days, maybe if I had practiced with Daniel that first week the way I did with Rebecca, maybe if I had… who knows. Can’t go back and change anything, and it’s not worth trying to make excuses or find someone or something to blame. Disappointed though I am, I’m OK with my decision. I think it’s the right thing for the three of us, even if it wasn’t what I had originally hoped.