In my mind there was never really a question on whether or not I would breastfeed. From my doula work I knew about all the health benefits of breastmilk and how great it was for bonding. My goal was to breastfeed for the first year. BUT, to be completely honest I wasn't sure if I would actually enjoy it. I was worried that I wouldn't like it at all.
Sunday mornings have always been one of my favorite times of the week. Before giving birth I had a ritual of going for a run or yoga class with friends, usually followed by the farmer's market or brunch. Sunday mornings felt so long and leisurely; they would stretch into a day of relaxation and act as my reset button before the week would begin again. "OOOO, OOOO, OOOOOOO, eeeeeee!!" A tiny palm to the face, a tug on my hair, and BAM! 6:30am, I'm awake.
At around 4 months postpartum I hit a wall with patience. I was extremely frustrated at my attempts to get back into shape and my body not complying. Even worse I felt like the biggest hypocrite for telling so many moms to be patient with their own bodies. Getting dressed in the morning was becoming such an ordeal because nothing fit...I wasn't pregnant anymore so my maternity clothes were too big, but I wasn't anywhere near the same shape or size I was before pregnancy. I was just stuck in the middle, in a body I didn't really know anymore. I was over it. My body, being postpartum, everything.