The Perfect Formula

I made it to the gym last night (woohoo!) and ran 31 minutes of the 30 to 45 minutes my training schedule dictated. The task of running those 31 minutes was no small feat considering what it took to even get to the gym.

Yesterday morning I decided to try to give Sophia formula (as there is a good chance I will be substitute teaching at the school where I used to teach English) so that I could have an option other than pumping. She wanted nothing of it, and I can't blame her, compared to breast milk it taste pasty and bitter. After a good effort I decided to breastfeed her and we continued merrily on with our day.

Planning for my trip to the gym, I pumped a bottle in the late afternoon for Mark to give Sophia when he arrived home. His timing couldn't have been better: he came home just before feeding time. Which was just enough time to prepare a formula bottle in addition to the boot;e I had pumped. My plan (here I go with my "plans") was to have him try feeding Sophie the formula again and when she decided not to take it, have him give her the bottle that I had pumped.

As I laced up my shoes to head to the gym, he began the feeding. Sophie rejected the bottle of formula more intensely than she had in the morning, screaming and shaking her head to get the bottle out of her mouth. I sat on the couch watching. Mark switched to the bottle of breast milk and I started to head for the door, but I stopped dead in my tracks when Sophie started screaming and rejected the bottle of breast milk (!!)--something she has never done before. I stood by and watched as Mark repeatedly offered her the bottle, her crying only escalated. "Now she won't take a bottle at all," my husband said.

He finally gave up and I took over and gave her what she was really looking for. My heart sank as I sat there feeding her. OH, NO! What have I done?!? I thought. I imagined that we'd never have a date night again; I'd never be able to leave her side unless it was between feedings. I will be tied to her until she is weaned. My outlook was bleak.

I finished feeding her and finally made it out the door to the gym, where I ran a tedious 31minutes on the treadmill, contemplating the whole time how I will get her to take a bottle again.