After six weeks of trying to get my baby to latch on, I feel further away, not closer. I spend more than 3 hours a day pumping, and hours sterilising the pump equipment, all the bottles, preparing feed, feeding her, burping her because bottles make her gassy, etc, and have absolutely no time to do anything.
Meanwhile, female colleagues, friends with babies, are asking my husband lots of questions about how we're getting on. He knows I'm very sensitive about all this, and don't want to admit a) she's living on formula b) my breasts are strange and that's why she won't breastfeed c) we're fractious and exhausted and depressed. If he says something like 'I'm afraid I don't want to talk about that' he'll sound weird, but he knows I don't want him to share all of our problems with people. But I feel like people should also cut him a little slack - he didn't take any paternity leave because he's an academic and no one can cover for him, and he's taking on some of the non-stop bottle factory slack, doing all the shopping etc, while working full time.
I wish this sort of thing weren't just something people talked about - it is my breasts, after all. I thought we'd be able to keep it from my parents in law, but obviously I had to keep vanishing every 3 hours to pump, and then reappearing with small amounts of breastmilk which we'd then decant, and obviously there were bottles everywhere. Fortunately they didn't talk to me about it, they were very understanding. But I wish people didn't have to know.