Do you think you could pump a little more?

(This is about breastfeeding..if it squicks you out..I will see you tomorrow.)

Over the past a couple of weeks, I have seen a couple of stories about breastfeeding..there was that breastfeeding type sit-in at a Target; a mom being given the wrong baby to breastfeed at the hospital and the lawsuit that followed.  I breastfed both of my girls--Laurel was half and half (my milk and formula) and Rachel was all breast milk for a while but I pumped and fed her out of the bottle. (Quite a little sucker that one..) I was very proud of this accomplishment and I wrote an essay after Laurel was born to both brag and lament on this experience.

Do you think you could pump a little more?

By this point, I have made it clear that I thought the whole baby process was going to be a lot easier.  Breastfeeding was no exception to the surprise.  How hard can it be to have a child latch on to your nipple and suck?  Isn’t that how Caroline Ingalls did it on Little House on the Prairie?  I mean “Ma” never needed a lactation consultant showing her how to express milk.

Let me start from the beginning.  Breastfeeding never squicked me out.  When a woman whips out her boob (I don’t call it a breast.  I eat chicken breasts. My boobs are boobs), it’s natural.  I know my mom breastfed my sister and me.  Proof of which can be seen in family photos of my mom’s ginormous tata’s which now have been reduced to 32A’s.  My aunt had her children when I was between 9 and 12.  The sight of her feeding Hannah or Lydia was common.  The cutoff from breast milk to table food was when either of them could say “too old for joobie” when you asked how old they were.  My Aunt Brendi was never sequestered to another room to feed them.  Where she was at the present time was where she fed them.

I really can’t say that my goal to breastfeed Laurel was to bond with her.  My first reason was practical.  Breastfeeding costs less than formula.  A can of powdered formula is at least $21.  I believe if Laurel was formula fed only, she would have gone through at least two cans a week therefore $168 a month.  I never realized how expensive formula was.  My sister and I jokingly call it powdered gold. 

My second reason was a selfish one.  I understood that your body would burn an extra 400 calories a day while breastfeeding.  I breast fed to lose my pregnancy weight.  (I feel guilty just typing that one out.)

Before my difficulties, I thought it was very convenient to be able to feed Laurel relatively anywhere without worrying about having formula, bottles, etc.

I didn’t set an expectation for myself in regards to how long I would breastfeed Laurel.  It would be great if I could make it six months.  I would just see how it went.

An hour or so after Laurel was born, I tried to feed her.  It shocked me that the nurse literally shoved Laurel’s face into my boob.  This was a first for both Laurel and me.  She latched on but 36 hours later (which equates to approximately 23 feedings) my nipples were telling me that she wasn’t latching on correctly.  At this point, every time I was to feed her, there was an initial five seconds of agony and then hoping that she was getting enough to eat.

I did take a breastfeeding class sponsored by my HMO before Laurel was born.  The only part of the class that I remember was holding a doll like I was going to breastfeed it.  But the doll they gave me didn’t weigh close to what Laurel weighed.  The doll also didn’t squirm, have a bobbling head or a working mouth.  While the class was a nice thought, it didn’t help me a bit. 

My nips were a mess.  Laurel was losing more weight than anticipated and her bilirubin levels went way up.  She was as yellow as a dandelion.

I thought my milk would drop a day or two after Laurel was born but it took four days.  Prior to the drop, she was getting colostrum.  While I was told that colostrum was jammed packed with all the nutrients that she needed, it was also like sucking Jello through a straw.

At four days old, we went back in the hospital so Laurel could “tan” under the blue lights and get her rosy hue back.  As she was in the nursery, my milk dropped.  I didn’t know what was happening to me.  It was like being in the sixth grade again and getting my period for the first time.  I was prepared for the occurance but when it actually happened, I thought I was bleeding to death.  Ching was helpful.  He told me that he didn’t know what this was but I was definitely HUGE.

I felt like I had grapefruits attached to my chest.  And I didn’t want to be touched.  The tenderness was nothing like I expected.   I can only describe the soreness as pressing down on a very bad bruise but the pain was radiating from the inside out.  I didn’t want anything to touch me which is a great thought since I was about to have an infant chomp down on my nipple.

I thought my milk dropping would help Laurel latch on correctly since the milk was flowing easier (then the colostrums).  She would eat like a champ and pack on some weight.  This didn’t happen, so during her first hospital stay we decided to supplement her diet with formula.  I felt like an absolute failure not be able to breast feed my child.  This was the “natural way” and I couldn’t do it.  So many women that I knew were able to pump their kids full of milk.  As I was pretty down on myself, some (other women) started to fess up.  My mom admitted to me that while she breast fed me, it only lasted for a couple of months.  Little by little more breastfed children were actually products of both formula and breastmilk.

While Laurel was having her first round of formula in the nursery, I started to pump.  I needed to relieve some of the pressure and I also thought that if Laurel couldn’t get the milk from my boob, I could pump and put it in a bottle for her.  The first time I pumped, I thought my nipples were being stretched like a pull toy.  I am a huge proponent of the electric breast pump because of the speed and efficiency but when you first use it, start on the absolute lowest setting and work up.  My first attempt yielded about ¼ of an ounce out from both side combined.  Getting a few ounces at a time took me a few attempts on the pump.

After Laurel was discharged, we had a lactation consultant come over to correct any bad techniques.  I really didn’t know what to expect.  There were so many nuances that I didn’t even consider:  proper pillow placement to better my posture, massaging techniques to get the milk flowing, holding Laurel up higher, etc.  I even had diagrams drawn for me so I would remember techniques. 

Then I got to use all sort of accessories.  My nipples were pretty beaten up and I needed the to heal but I still wanted to breastfeed Laurel.  I used nipple shields which are little cone shaped pieces of soft plastic.  My nips were now protected but stuck straight out just like I was in a 1990 Madonna video.  Also, the firm shape of my nipple was easier for Laurel to latch on to.  We also used thin tubing taped to my boob.  One end was taped very close to one of my nips. The other end was attached to a syringe that was full of my breastmilk.  When Laurel was close to latching on, we would slowly squirt the milk in her mouth so she would know where her target was.  Even while I am writing this, the process sounds so convoluted.  But every idea helped.  I was also proud of myself for not giving up.

Before my perseverance is praised, my motivation may be considered selfish.  I wanted to lose my baby weight.  I know..selfish but it kept me motivated and on task.  I had spent several months in clothes that I hated.  I just wanted to wear my comfy, make-my-legs-look-long jeans.

Little by little, the breastfeeding started to work for the both of us.  It took a lot of tries, a lot of pillow arranging, one more hospital stay for Laurel (to get her weight on track), a regular supplement of formula, and self realization that she was drinking all breast milk I had but was still a little hungry therefore needed a helping of formula.

If she was drinking formula, I would pump to keep my milk flowing.  Actually, this also gave me a break at times too.  My mom would feed her a bit, Aunt Angela was thrilled to feed her and Ching did one feeding during the night while I slept.

I would always do a feeding very early in the morning around 3:00.  I always thought I was going a little crazy during this time of night.  I was trying to stay awake so I would either talk quietly to myself and Laurel or I would play boggle using Laurel’s alphabet floor mat (I was able to make 2 five letter words!) or make up silly limericks.  The only one I can remember was about my then 4 month old, very chubby, niece Maddie:

                There once was a little girl named Maddie,

                Who was cute, sweet and fatty.

                Through all her drool

                She knew how to rule,

                Walking around saying “Who’s your Daddy?”

At the time, this was amusing.  But again, it kept me awake.

Breastfeeding was extremely convenient while traveling on a plane.  If I had the window on one side and Ching on the other (side of me), no one could see me feed Laurel.  If Laurel started fussing or I wanted her to suck to prevent her ears popping, I whipped out my boob and she was content for a long time.  There have been many a plane ride since where I wish I still could breastfeed her even though she is now at the age where she could say, “Too old for joobie.”

I continued to breastfeed when I went back to work.  Out of all of the crap that Laurel and I went through trying to get this process to work, I found pumping at work the most inconvenient aspect.  My work doesn’t have a mother’s area.  Most floors are 90% open cubes.  While I would like to think of myself as important, I didn’t have an office with a door, I have a big open cube.  I ended up pumping in one of the phone rooms.  It was an incredibly small room where people could shut the door and make a private call.  So at least twice a day, my double breast pump and I would go to another floor, lock the door, disrobe and hopefully pump four ounces.

My ounce output would dictate if I was having a good day.  Anything under a total of 5 ounces (for the day) signified a very bad day.  Anything over 8 was a very good day.  Regardless how much I ate and drank, I could not pump more than 10 ounces during an 8 hour day.  Ching read an article about children who were breastfed and their I.Q. results.  According to him, he understood that breastfed children had I.Q’s  an average of 8 points higher compared to non breastfed children. He then proceeded to ask me if I could pump a little more? Two questions popped in my head after his (incredibly stupid) request.  All of this for only 8 more freakin’ points?  Do you think I am hoarding milk in my boobs?

While I had difficulties at the beginning, I was pretty lucky during the work/breastfeeding phase.  I never leaked.  I was never panicked that I had to pump and couldn’t pump.  AND, I never had an unfortunate incident where I hear someone else’s kid cry while two big circles stained my blouse.  The only issue that I had were some clogged milk ducts.  You will know a clogged duct when it happens.  You don’t want anything touching or sucking on your boob.  Actually, you don’t even want to move.  This is pretty unfortunate since pumping and applied heat eventually gives relief. 

I didn’t make the conscious decision to stop.  My body just didn’t produce milk anymore around the time Laurel was six months old.  My body didn’t give me time to wean Laurel but she didn’t seem to notice that she was only getting formula.  Earlier I was beating myself up for having to give her formula with my milk.  Now at this point, I was relieved that I didn’t have to transition her from breastmilk to formula.

Recently I asked Laurel where milk comes from as I handed her a sippy cup.  I thought she was going to say “moo”.  She didn’t know what to say and just stared at me.  While she didn’t know the answer, I was more satisfied that she didn’t point to the refrigerator.  If it had been only that easy…