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    Careful what you wish for

    December 10th, 2008

    In my naivety, pre-childbirth I had idealized that I would exclusively pump and then feed G the expressed milk. G would still benefit from the breast-milk, S could bond with him more through feeding himself, and so on and so forth. My first nursing session as a result felt a bit awkward. It wasn’t my plan! What if I was setting myself a bad precedent?

    And then I got over it and forgot all about it… and little be knowns to me, became quite attached to nursing.

    How do I know this? Because the lactation consultant at our pedi’s office has asked me to exclusively pump for the next week in an attempt to rule out a few more things related to G’s recent weight issues. This way we’ll know if a) I am not producing enough; or b) G is not pulling enough from me despite the available supply. If both of these turn out to not be true… well, then we go into the pediatrician with this additional information and start pursuing other avenues.

    So now I have to pump, note the time & quantity of each session, feed and then note his behavior and mood throughout the day. Luckily I’m already tracking 90% of the above (thank you Trixietracker!) for quite some time now so pulling up that data won’t be difficult. We do this for 5 days. On Monday I go in for another weight check and have another consultation.

    5 days might not seem like much, but the logistics around it are making my head spin. My idea of exclusively pumping now seems so impossible. How do I get out of my house now? How do I manage to pump and keep G happy at the same time? He’s a pretty high maintenance kid, and won’t patiently wait by while I pump. I already have milk ready so that he doesn’t have to wait for me to pump to eat, but still…

    This is what we’ll have to do when I get back to work, but it sounds easier having to pump while in the office — at least there I don’t have a little boy demanding my attention while I do so.

    At his weight check this past Monday, G had not only NOT gained any weight, or even stayed the same as he had in previous weeks, he’s now lost weight.

    I’m scared… and sad.

    Scared, because what if this test shows it is me? Worse… what if it’s him?

    Sad? Yeah, sad! I can’t explain this portion. My logical mind tells me to get over it, and deal with the issue at hand. Yet, I still can’t shake the fact that I’ve enjoyed having this experience with him, and I feel like it’s being taken away from me. I no longer feel as special… as important to him… adequate.

    The weird part is that given my family history, I always knew there would be a chance (a good one mind you) that I might not be able to provide for my child. I told myself to embrace each day I’d be able to nurse him as a gift. Except that I didn’t. I took it for granted. And now that there’s a chance this might be over for us, all these feelings are coming up to bite me in the rear.

    I hate feeling this way! I hate that we’re here!