Gametes In Love

I’ve mentioned this before, but daycare tracks diaper changes, bottles and naps for the kids in the infant/toddler room. I LOVE this! Being a data junkie aside, it’s actually really helpful for me as a working parent. It helps me plan for my evening better. Last bottle at 3, and it’s now 5:30? Well, then, baby’s dinner comes first. If it was after 5, then I have the possibility of eating with the S and G. Short naps throughout the day? Then get ready for a loooong night with lots of wake-ups.

I look at this sheet every afternoon, so imagine my surprise last week when I saw this:

7:20 Breastfed.

Breastfed? Cool! This is a special treat for me since I left by 7:15 that day. So I jokingly asked Ms. J “So who breastfed by child this morning?” Poor Ms. J gave me the most horrified look. She doesn’t come in to open in the mornings, so, sadly, she had no idea what had happened that day. I assured her that I wasn’t upset in any way, just that I found it humorous.

I will admit though, that I am just a wee-bit disappointed. How sweet would it be to have this option, huh? Talk about full service daycare!

This morning marked the end of my nursing relationship with G. As much as a part of me wishes we can go on, it’s our time. My body is continuing to decrease the amount of milk I’m producing (and my current period sure isn’t helping that any) to a point where he’s really not getting anything out of me. I produced a whole whopping 2 ounces in the span of 6 hours yesterday, so I know that our morning and evening nursing sessions are now more of a routine than a nutritional experience.

I’m a bit sad, but also content. I started off this experience worried that I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed at all; then hoping I could make it to 6 months, and then a year. Well at 14.5 months, I’ve accomplished my goal and thrilled to know that I could battle a family history of, as well as my own body’s poor supply and win. I have no regrets of what it took to get here. The Fenugreek that made me smell like maple syrup, the Reglan, the Domperidone, the lactation cookies, the obscene amounts of water I’ve been drinking daily? They were all worth it.

I will miss my morning/evening snuggles with my boy, but I’ll tell you what I’m looking forward to:

1. Going back to regular bras. There’s a few lacy numbers S and I need to get re-acquainted with.
2. Sleeping in on the week-ends. Yeah, now S will be just as capable of getting up at 6 am on a Saturday and get G his breakfast. Oh, week-end sleep-in, how have I missed thee!
3. Not having to take a pump to/from work each day. Each morning, packing up my car for the day, between my bags and G’s bags, you’d swear I’m moving out or something.
4. Getting out of the house faster in the morning. It takes me 20 minutes to nurse. In contrast, G can suck down a bottle in about 5 minutes. Have you any idea what I can do with those extra 15 minutes?
   1. Sleep, for starters. I can snooze my alarm. Twice!!!
   2. Shower. Oh, morning shower, I’ve missed thee too!
5. Reclaiming my freezer space (we’ve had to result to a second freezer, borrowed from our neighbor, to store the overflow of frozen milk)

So there it is. The end. It’s bittersweet.

P.S. The water thing though… I’m kind of addicted, so I think I’ll continue drinking it as I have.

I think G has a favorite meal: Spaghetti. About a week ago we went out for dinner with Augie and his family. Augie’s youngest little one and G shared a bowl of spaghetti. It was the first G has had of the treat and loved it!

Fast forward to Saturday. After swim class, S and I ran around town doing some errands. Well, all of a sudden it was about noon, we were no-where close to home, but as I hadn’t anticipated being out this late, I didn’t pack a lunch for him. (Lesson learned – will always pack a meal ahead just in case). We ended up going to Macaroni Grill. I ordered the spaghetti and meatballs, thinking I would share that with G. Well, it was more like he sharing with me, because the kid could not get enough. He slurped his pasghetti like nothing could possibly taste better. I couldn’t cut them up and get them to him fast enough. There was tomato sauce flying everywhere: his face was a mess, his hands were ridiculous, and his portable dining chair needed to be hosed down. But boy, oh boy, did he have a good time. I guess I know what I’ll be making him for dinner later this week.

I will also note that on the same luncheon outing, G waited for the spaghetti by enjoying an appetizer of crayon. Yeah, you read right — crayon. He was gnawing on that thing like wax was a necessary food supplement. I yanked on one end, while he was biting down on the other. His teeth ended up being green and purple with little chunks of waxy crayon left in there for good measure. While, I’m glad these things are non-toxic, there shall be no more crayon at our dining tables for awhile. Can anyone educate me what about crayon makes it so tasty? That is without asking me to eat one myself?

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Oh, as a side note, unless my scale is lying to me (which is quite possible), G is now 19lb 10oz. The WHO puts him in the 10th percentile for his age group. 10th!!! I guess this is where G walking at 14 months is letting him catch up a bit, weight-wise. I expect his new found mobility to put a halt to that curve climb and shoot him back down, but hey, I can enjoy the double digits for short while, right?

We’re weaning.

G is now a year old, and with the exception of maybe 10oz total of formula “experimentation”, I can say that this little man has been exclusively breast-milk fed. This is something I never thought I’d come to say. Even before he was born I knew that every day I could provide for him would be a blessing. I knew that supply issues, having ran in my family, would greet me as well. That assumption did not disappoint. I’ve taken numerous supplements and meds, woken-up each morning at 2am to pump (just to maintain supply), hydrated myself silly, and spent 2.5hrs of my work day in the mom’s room pumping. I have no qualms with saying that I’ve given breastfeeding my best shot. I am proud to have gotten here. It was pure stubborn-ness, but we got here.

I began introducing dairy to G about a week and a half before his first birthday. My freeze-stash was depleting and my supply took a dip again. I saw no reason to try to fuss with my meds dosage, so I started with 1oz of whole cow milk in his bottles mixed in with his Mamma-Juice. I’ve increased it by an ounce each day. He’s now consuming 14oz of cow’s milk working his way up to 20oz. I will continue nursing him mornings and evenings as long as my supply will let me… or G will co-operate.

I can’t say that I’m not enjoying the liberty that weaning is affording me. I’m more productive at work. I can sleep more than 3 hours in a row, so I’m rested more than I have been all year. Above all, my anxiety levels have greatly come down. I don’t know if I can ever describe what it feels like to know that you can’t give your baby something they need. Especially when you know that 1) they’re under-weight; 2) refuse to drink formula (those 10oz were a battle, believe me, and we tried all sorts of different brands and ratio mixes w/ breastmilk). Interestingly enough, now all of that stress is subsiding, I’m enjoying the nursing time we have together more than before.

The one thing that did take me aback, though, was G’s one year Well appointment. During our discussion on nutrition and weaning, G’s doc was happy he was responding so well to WCM, but also advised that in addition to the moo-juice, he’d love to see me continue nursing until G turns two!!! The look on my face must have been something priceless (perhaps a mixture of awe and shock), because S stumbled to clarify. Honestly, I was thinking “Are you kidding me? Have you any idea what it took to get here?” I’m not against extended breastfeeding, believe me, I just never saw myself being able to do it. And I was resentful, because I felt like I just ran a marathon, only to be told I had to run the distance one more time before I could be rewarded. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure we’ll make it another full year, but we’ll take it each day at a time.

Meanwhile, I am gradually  dropping how often I pump at work. This week, I’m down to 4 sessions; next week 3; then 2; then 1. I will continue to have that mid-day pump for as long as G and I do this together. I’ve heard too many horror stories to make drastic changes, plus if we’re going to continue the morning and evening feeds, I don’t really need to dry up. This milk will be frozen and used only for times I’m not around for him. It’s just strange that now that I’m weaning, because I still pump as often, my freezer stash is growing. Who knows how long that will last, but I’m not taking it for granted.

On a side note, once G is fully transitioned to WCM, I only have to send empty bottles to day care. The new facility takes care of the milk. I’m looking forward to that!

I am hungry. All. The.Time.

I have a big lunch and by 2 I am starving. By 5 I am eyeing my colleagues’ snacks on their desks.

I am also equally embarrassed when we go out with friends. Because I want seconds… and possibly thirds. No, friends, I am not being starved at home by my dear husband — I just have a tapeworm whose name is Nursing.

I never used the term “eating for two” while I was pregnant, because I didn’t want to, or feel like I needed to. Now though? Wow! From the amount of food I intake you’d swear I’m feeding a village. I now frequently out-eat S. I can only imagine how hungry moms who feed multiples must be.

I think a nursing mom needs to enter one of those eating competitions. She’d win hands down… and maybe still be hungry afterward.

At this rate, I can only hope that when I stop nursing G my body won’t expand to show where all this food is going. Otherwise I’ll have to move into the gym.

Until next time — I’ll be the one in the corner eating something.

You wanna know what pains me? Pouring 4oz of milk down the drain. It might not sound like much, but…

These 4oz took me hours to produce. 4oz that I had to wake up for at 2a.m. to harvest. 4oz that could make the difference if G shows up on the 3rd percentile, or the 1st percentile at his next weight check.

Why? Because they were left out too long on the counter when G decided he was done eating. It hurts! Not physically, but it’s my mental anguish.

For formula feeding parents, this could be the equivalent pain of going out to the store and buying a big Costco-sized crate of formula, only to go home and take it straight to the dumpster when you see that the expiration date was yesterday. And you can’t return it ‘cuz of a final sale. And you can’t go back out to the store for more because it’s now closed.

Yeah, it bites!

I realize I owe you guys an update on my experience with Reglan.

It’s working for me! More than anything else.

I’m not turning into a dairy farm to be sure — I’m not making anything left-over, but at least I’m back to producing just enough for G’s daily consumption. This is a good thing, and I feel very relieved.

I have not experienced any discernible side effects from it which is a good thing. I am feeling more tired and sleep deprived in the mornings, but I think this is work stress related (good stress I assure you). Even better, I’m not seeing any side effects in G either. He’s still a mellow and happy little guy… although have I mentioned he has a temper if he doesn’t get what he wants? That’s a whole other story though.

I stopped the herbal supplements and am just on the Reglan to see if that alone will help, and it has. I still have an occasional 1/2 a beer though. I figure if an adult beverage is in order, it might as well be one that benefits my kid ;p

One test we’re yet to experience though is Aunt Flo time. By my calculation she’s due for a visit in about a week or so, so I wonder how my body will perform on the meds with her around.

That’s it. G is turning 7m on Saturday and is still a breastmilk fed baby. That’s still 7 months more of this diet than I thought he would have and I’m a thrilled little camper. Yey, Reglan!

Where, oh, where could they be?

Yeah, I’ve been living in supply decline city here for the last 2 weeks. I’m still stuffing myself with fenugreek & blessed thistle, enjoying my lactation cookies when possible and doing the beer thing, yet it’s as if my body has developed an immunity to the aforementioned tools. I’m coming up about a day-care bottle short now daily. And it’s not like G is eating any less. Kinda sucks! Luckily I have my freezer stash to look to, but I hate seeing (the security blanket that it is to me) go down.

I have two awesome friends who have offered to share their milk with me, and I can’t possibly tell you how fortunate I feel for that, but in a way I feel selfish: I want MY milk and to give all that I can before I go down that route.

So enter Reglan. Yes, THAT Reglan. It turns out that while you’re solving for upset stomach and nausea, you’re also getting more milk as a side effect. I met with my OB on Monday for my annual check-up and we talked about my declining boobage. I asked for a prescription, and she was nice enough to oblige.

I’m excited about taking it and hope it will get me back to where I was.

Now with that said, Reglan can come with some side effects. My primary concern was that it is passed through milk to the child. Normally, this may not be an issue, but since Reglan is prescribed to babies with reflux (which as you know G has), I don’t want it to overmedicate my little guy on top of his existing meds. So after three days of impatient waiting on a talk with our pedi, and an informative discussion, he didn’t have any issue with the meds. Check one.

Secondary concern is possible side effects on me. Depression has been listed as a possible side effect, but I’d like to think that my cheery disposition so far in life hasn’t shown me to be prone to depressive episodes. However, if you see me getting moody here call me out on it.

So we try this for about 6 weeks and then check in with the pedi.

C’mon milk!

This Sunday (if there were 29 days in February) will mark G’s 6mo birthday. As special as this is (and I’ll devote a whole post about it) there’s another event I want to acknowledge: 6 months of me breastfeeding our son!

This may not seem like a big deal to some of you, but it’s HUUUGE for me. Coming from a family where neither my mother nor her mother were able to breastfeed successfully (and not for lack of trying, believe me), I was fully prepared that their condition would follow me as well. I had hoped to breastfeed, but knew that any day that I could do it was to be savored because the next day might not be. As a result, I’ve been extremely sensitive about baby feeding, G’s weight and his overall development.

I discovered early on that talking to mothers and mothers-to-be about breastfeeding is like talking to someone about religion. Just like religion there is no “right” or “wrong” choice — just the choice that each family has made given their situation. I try not to judge as I vividly remember a conversation (pre-birth) with a friend who laid in on me about breastfeeding G without listening to my concerns.

After G was born and I realized that I got lucky, I set my first milestone at 6 months. Getting G to be breastmilk fed for 6 months would make me thrilled. Getting to a year, ecstatic. And here were are: my first milestone.

I really AM thrilled! And to be quite frank, relieved. It’s given me hope about reaching a full year.

It hasn’t been easy. Keeping up supply has been hard work, and stressful, but it’s worth it to me because I really want to be “here” and this is something that was important (to me) to do.

Hurray for boobies!

I feel, by the way, as if I’m at a graduation ceremony listening to a speech about accomplishments and goals and the future. Except the graduates are my boobs.

Ok, enough pep-talk. Now… onto a year.

I had a dentist appointment this morning. Nothing serious: just my regularly scheduled cleaning. I’ve been with this office ever since I moved up here from college. Although, after 2 moves, it now takes me 40 minutes to drive there (without traffic), I still go there because 1)  I really like the staff; and 2) given how rarely I need an appointment, I don’t mind the trek.

This morning I dropped G off at day care at his regular 7am time and, anticipating traffic, headed towards my 9am appointment. I got there at 8, much to my surprise, and since I had an hour to kill I decided to keep my 8am pump session and pump in my car.

That’s right folk – I pumped in public. Well… sorta!

I drove around the parking lot to find myself the most remote and concealed spot possible. I found one right next to a utility enclosure surrounded by bushes. I though “Perfect!” My side would be completely covered and my only exposure would be if anyone decided to pull up on my right. I figured that it was a big parking lot though, I was far enough away from the building entrance and the average “lazy” person wouldn’t care to park next to me. Of course as soon as I lifted up my shirt someone decided that of ALL the empty spaces around, the one literally right next to me would be the most perfect one to choose. Yeah – lucky me!

I don’t feel self-conscious nursing in the car anymore. I feel justified in it, but pumping is different. I felt exposed… and a little embarrassed.

Either way, the driver (thankfully a woman) came and went without paying too much attention to the evil-science experiment my vehicle was begining to resemble. After she left, I re-settled myself and finished up my business without further disturbance. But once I was done, I realized I had another problem: “How do I clean up?”

This is where I realized how spoiled I am, and how good I have it. At work my Mother’s Room has a cozy recliner, an electrical outlet, a sink and a fridge. It’s clean, and private and quiet, and these days ALL MINE!!!!! Here’s a crappy photo, but one I’m going to cherish going forward.

My car had neither of these things: the seats are certainly no leather recliner, it wasn’t private and a sink was only as close as the nearest bathroom. I started to feel bad for all the women out there who don’t have all the conveniences that I’ve gotten used to and have grown to expect. I’m really starting to admire them for being committed to “breastfeeding” their little ones while back at work.

So yeah, I have it pretty good.

…I think I need to send HR and our Facilities teams a thank you!