I’ve been having these bouts of weepiness, interspersed with trying to hold on to my sense of humor–which keeps wriggling away from me. I took a post-partum depression quiz and scored quite low on it. I think those quizzes are bullshit, and know I don’t have PPD. I don’t even like the term. I think mothers get scared and lonely and despondent and they try to slap a label on it. I think mothers feel unsupported and isolated and overwhelmed. They are expected to cope with too much — no wonder they get depressed.

I am not depressed so much as I am anxious, especially about the whole breastfeeding thing. I had visions yesterday of this breast infection spiraling out of control, and them having to amputate my boob. I know that’s crazy but I thought it.

I think about how I’d feel if I couldn’t breastfeed and I get so sad. I’d feel too horrible, too ashamed, I think, to even hang out with my breastfeeding friends. I’d feel like I was a total failure, although I know there is more to motherhood than what food source you provide to your baby. There’s part of me that worries about this fixation on the breastfeeding as am emblem of maternal success or failure. I need to broaden my perspective…