Two Scoops

I should probably provide a TMI warning for those of you, dear readers, who'd prefer to not read about breastfeeding. So, there's your warning .... if the topic grosses you out, see you next blog! :-)

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Hello to everybody else. :-)

I am pro-breastfeeding. Before I had Tyler, I didn't anticipate to be as much of a proponent of it as I turned out to be. Like most new moms-to-be, the idea weirded me out. But fortunately, once Tyler arrived, I learned that breastfeeding was easy for us. I enjoyed the quiet alone time I had with the baby - even at 2 a.m. - and I appreciated knowing my child was getting a totally natural form of nourishment. Suddenly, the idea of formula was what weirded me out.

Tyler didn't regularly drink formula until he was 11 months old, when I finally threw my pump in the trash and let the daycare feed him formula when he was there. When I was at home, however, he nursed or drank whatever I had pumped from a bottle. For 11 months, I balanced motherhood, a full-time job and grad school and didn't let any of that get in my way of providing nourishment for my baby the way I wanted to. It was worth the extra effort to me, and I didn't resent my decision one bit. And, as I like to remind my husband when I come home with a new pair of shoes or two, I saved us quite a bit of money. Breastmilk is free, you know.

I decided I would pursue the same plan with Alivia. So we did, and as with Tyler, it was one of the more fulfilling aspects of her newborn months. Our breastfeeding relationship ended abruptly, however, when she was hospitalized at 6 months. While in the ICU, I couldn't hold her, and doctors didn't sign off on me even trying to nurse until she was upgraded to the non-ICU floor a week later. And even then, they wanted to measure every ounce she drank. I wanted that measurement, too. For weeks, I hadn't realized just how little Alivia had been taking in when breastfeeding. So my incredibly unromantic relationship with my breast pump began. Every two hours I'd sit down and pump so she'd be able to drink only breastmilk while still hospitalized. I somehow got it in my head that she shouldn't have to handle adjusting to a new form of food after being so sick.

It hurt, and it was inconvenient. But it was worth it to me.

At night, if she had done well drinking her bottles during the day, I'd try to nurse her. She would sort of look at me funny and try for a bit, but she was quickly developing a preference for the bottle.

When we came home, I kept pumping so I could continue to measure her intake and also used formula to supplement. A few times I tried to nurse her, but ultimately she lost interest and flat-out forgot how. So for the next five months, it was just me and the pump. First four times a day, then three, then two, until I realized just last week that I was spending 30-40 minutes a day producing the same amount of milk that two scoops of formula will make in 30 seconds. Two scoops. And even then, I figured it might still be worth it to keep going. Those 4-5 ounces every day were surely good for her, right?

But then last night, I realized just how tired I was of finding time in my day to wash, assemble and use a hard piece of plastic. I wanted out of that relationship. I endured it far longer than most women would have, but that's not at all why I kept going. It was me hanging onto something that felt right and was completely beneficial to my daughter, however small it became.

To have that aspect of our relationship end on the terms it did is likely going to bother me for some time. I feel cheated out of an experience both of us deserved to have. There are so many things I could feel mad or sad about regarding her illness, and this one is right there at the top. I'm confident that I did the best I could given the circumstances, and I don't need anybody to validate that for me, but it's still a tough pill to swallow. Instead of ending a natural, comforting relationship with my baby, I'm breaking up with a pump.

I've written this blog not because I need others to pat me on the back, but because I get tired of breastfeeding being an awkward topic. It's rarely something a woman can openly share with others and feel proud or even normal about. Breastfeeding is hard and stressful at times, and women - especially those who work or have older children to care for - fight hard to balance being their baby's sole source of food for months and months. Believe me when I say it's worth it, and these women don't need others to celebrate their achievement with them. But they do want others to feel comfortable around them when and if they do discuss it.

So, there's my story. Now you know a bit more about me than you might like. I think you'll get over it. :-)