So today marks the end of my breastfeeding journey. My milk was upsetting her stomach and causing her to spit up everything. I didn’t want her to lose weight so we made the decision to start formula. She’s already doing better. That being said, I’m in mourning for what I thought was going to be a two year long journey. The alcohol hasn’t truly hit me yet, but when it does, I know it’ll be awful. I feel like a failure as a mother, and like my daughter doesn’t need me. My fiancé could certainly do better than me. I want to disappear.