Continue Reading Below Advertisement

To go back to the log analogy, this is the moment where the guy is exhausted and his body is falling apart from trying to rescue his best friend. He's got a dislocated shoulder, and every attempt is torture. He is going to keep trying because this is his best friend, just like I'm going to keep trying because it's my baby. He is probably also going to be a bit discouraged if someone just shrugs and says, "Well, that's what your muscles were made to do. It should be the most natural thing in the world," because how did that person get there and why isn't he helping? But also, that's not a real encouraging thing to say.

Getty Thinkstock

"Hey, man, when do you think you're going to finish up in there?"

Continue Reading Below Advertisement

"It's not a really big deal," that kind of talk implies. "Any jerk off the street could do it. You're probably not trying very hard."

Everybody's different, but if I was that guy, I'd be encouraged if someone shouted, "Get out of there! You're crazy!" Maybe the trapped friend goes, "Go! Save yourself! I know you did your best!" I already wanted to save my friend, but now that everyone thinks I'm nuts for doing it and it can't be done, I also feel like it would be a totally insane, heroic thing to do. I would make more endorphins and shout "PAIN IS WEAKNESS LEAVING THE BODY!" and rip that log in half.

Continue Reading Below Advertisement

Paradoxically, sometimes telling people it's OK to quit is exactly what they need to not quit, because you're also telling them you're impressed by what they've done already and that continuing to try would be going above and beyond. I personally started my turnaround when I accepted that it would be OK if I failed. We actually bought a Costco-size can of formula. Somehow it brought me peace. Then I went back at it with a vengeance, and I fed that damn baby nothing but breast milk until the six-month mark, exactly like the God damn books say.