Yesterday I quit breast feeding. Hallelujah! Looking back, I should have stopped a while ago. The problem with quitting (besides my unwillingness to admit that I couldn't do it) was really the lactation chicks at the hopsital. They need a hobby that doesn't include other people's boobs. Seriously, they are dangerously close to needing posters at the hospital that say "You should breast feed. You're a bad mom if you don't. No, really, we will judge you." Or maybe a poster that says "You should breast feed until your child gets his own place. And he won't ever need therapy for it." I get that some people actually like to breast feed. You hear people call it magical, a wonderful bonding experience for you and your baby. I think those people should be tested for drugs. Monday night I was feeding my son, Grant, for the last time before bed. He feel asleep with my nipple in his mouth clamped between his little gums. I imagine that's what it would feel like if my nipple had been caught in a bear trap. Yet that was not what made me quit. That came yesterday morning...when it felt like Grant was chewing on the already sensitive part of my anatomy. He's 8 weeks old and has no teeth and yet it felt like all his grown up teeth came in while he was sleeping. At that moment my husband was coming in to say good-bye to us (he was off to work) and I looked at him and said "I'm done. I quit. I can't do it anymore." And this is why I love my husband...he said "Thank God!" So for almost two days I've been pumping and bottle feeding my little boy. And I love feeding him a bottle!