Failure

Remember that post about how cute and small Vivian is? Well, we just got back from our 9 month check up, and turns out, that yes, she's small. But not in the oh-what-a-cute-petite-little-thing-way, but rather in the, freakishly-small-off the charts-your boobs are not producing enough milk-not growing-way.

This is the exact same appointment I had with Isaac at 4 months. My supply had dwindled without my knowledge, and he didn't grow at all between his 3 month and 4 month appointment. As soon as I started supplementing with formula, he drank 24-28 oz a day no problem. Turns out he had been hungry all along, and I hadn't had enough milk for him. Thing is, he was sleeping great, he rarely cried, and he smiled all the time. I had NO IDEA. Want some Mommy guilt? Try starving your child and not noticing.

Cue 20 months later, and there I am, at the doctor's office, with a new baby this time. I've noticed that Vivian isn't very big, but I think she's just cute, and just like Mommy. But then, wait! No, it's not that at all! It's that you are not feeding her enough. She is hungry, and you are offering her empty, useless, wet-sock, saggy, piece-of-crap boobs.

Luckily for me, I've had to switch doctors in the meantime, so, not knowing my previous failings, they didn't call Child Protective Services on the spot.

God! What is wrong with me? How is it that I am unable to determine when my babies are hungry? I mean, there's really not that much to babies--they eat, they sleep, they poop. You just gotta figure out those 3 things. Is that so hard? And what the hell is going on with my traitor of a body that I can't produce enough milk to feed my own children? UGH. Just to underline the whole point, I got my period today. A nice bloody reminder of just how inept I am at this whole nursing your baby thing.

With Vivian, I have rather enjoyed nursing. I don't feel the same impatience I did with Isaac. My lifestyle has changed, and I'm used to it now, so nursing doesn't feel like such an imposition on my life and my body and my identity. I've even felt sort of proud to be still going strong at 9 months, like I can finally fit in with those AP moms who I always feel like such a loser around. And now it's gone. Great.

Not to mention--formula is expensive! And bottles are a pain in the ass!

Oh, and this: I had plans for an adult evening tonight with an old friend, complete with grown-up food, grown-up clothes, and grown-up libations, but . . it got cancelled. Hooray!