I have officially, as of today, stopped pumping/breastfeeding. Completely.

On the one hand I'm happy and relieved. I hated pumping and I'm thrilled to know that never again do I have to hook my breasts up to that evil device. And it's nice not to have to worry about what medicines I can take or whether or not I can have a glass of wine before a certain time.

But on the other hand I'm terribly, terribly sad. This is the last time in my life that I will ever have the opportunity to provide breast milk for a child of mine (yeah, yeah, I know I said the same thing when I was breastfeeding Lizzie--don't go there!) and it's the end of an era that went by way too fast.

I am trying not to beat myself up too badly about the decision to stop, but it's hard. I feel selfish. Yes, pumping is awful. It's painful. And it's a complete pain in the !@#. But a good martyr. . .er. . .mom does what she has to do for her baby, right?

And then of course there's the whole thing about expectations. See, I had these expectations about how my life would be if/when I ever had another child (I'd quit work and stay at home in my lovely, self-cleaning, landscaped, Better Homes & Gardens decorated house until my child was at least in high school), and that didn't work out. And then I had these expectations about what my birth experience would be like, and that didn't pan out. And then I had expectations about what my breastfeeding experience would be like, and that didn't pan out. So I pumped. And it sucked (literally and figuratively). So that didn't really pan out either!

And now I feel guilty. And like a loser.

I can't get anything right.

Well, except my baby boy.

He's right.

As right as rain.

He's perfect.

And really, that's all that should count. And I know it. The rest is just. . .details. He's what's important and he's GREAT.

And I know that he's going to remain that way, no matter that I feed him formula now instead of breast milk.

I have to remind myself: I gave him four months of breast milk. That's more than a lot of babies ever get. And I tried hard to make it work out for a longer period of time, but it didn't and that's just how it is. And, bottom line, Benjamin is growing (oh so quickly!) and is going to be fine. I know this. It's just sometimes hard to remember.