My parents are here for the holiday. At the moment they are sleeping in the hotel just up the road. I had them bring their bathroom scale. We don't have one. And I wanted to weigh Carys. You know, I stand on the scale, see how much I weigh, then I hold her, see how much we both weigh, subtract it out to know what she weighs.
It appears she has not gained since the last time she was weighed - at the midwifery, one month ago.
If you are a regular reader of this blog you will know that I am obsessed with her weight. Mainly because I have this fear that somehow my boobs are defective and she isn't getting enough and that it is a matter of time until the doctor tells me to put her on formula. Or I worry that I am not eating the right things. Or my supply is dropping and I don't even know it... and won't know it until one day there is nothing. I should probably talk about this in therapy, because, um... well... it is getting out of hand how much I am doubting myself. This is a serious amount of self doubt.
I want so badly to breastfeed my baby. And not just for 3, 6 or 9 months. 1 year plus.
Partner A pointed out that the scale doesn't show ounces so it is not accurate. And she is probably right.
Plus C makes lots of poopy and wet diapers. She's alert. She's meeting milestones. All of this counts for something in the world of healthy babies... right?
Okay so it is ocurring to me now that perhaps I am not trusting my body so much around breastfeeding because of how the birth went. I was all about going with the flow and trusting my body when it came to the birth and we all know how that went. So maybe in a way I have lost faith in my body. Just a thought.