In February, Bad Things Happened

Like two bouts of breast infection -- one of which sent me to the emergency room to have a huge abscess drained, leaving me with a hole that I *affectionately* call my "boob wound" which must be dressed twice daily.
So, with the least amount of guilt that I can manage, I've given up breast-feeding and have moved Desmond to the formula'ed bottle. He doesn't seem to mind at all.
However, I must admit that, despite the decidedly motherly intimacy that breast feeding provides -- I do feel a kind of pride that I am able to produce food to nourish my child -- I was not that keen on nursing. It is really totally exhausting. I know that some of my own happiness and independence must be sacrificed for the good of my dependent, but I had some difficulty coming to terms with the many months and countless hours ahead of me, hunched over a hungry child whose appetite seemed eternal.
What is more, I was feeling a fair amount of resentment toward all the websites and advice books -- and even California legislation -- compelling me to think of my body as a sacred trough that not only provides the best nourishment -- a miracle elixir allegedly preventing diabetes, asthma, obesity and slow-wittedness -- but also points to a morally superior mother who deeply, truly loves her progeny (unlike the bottle-feeding mother who is either conceived of as a self-absorbed diva or a lower-income, under-educated teenager).
Here's a pretty convincing article detailing the breastfeeding trend and questioning the actual medical benefits of nursing.