Well, I am no longer pumping. We had an encouraging day yesterday. We saw an osteopath who does manipulation and she did some work on Eric's head to improve his suck, and she also said that even if I wasn't able to pump enough milk to feed him completely, if I could keep some milk coming the supply would increase once he started nursing. So we were encouraged by that, and I had a pretty good evening. Last night I felt mellow, and also felt clear that I had done everything possible--and that is true. I did everything exactly right these last few weeks. There is nothing I, or anyone else, could have done differently or better to create a different outcome.
Nonetheless, my milk pretty much completely disappeared today. After a big round of hysteria, and beginning to get depressed, I pumped and got nothing--just drops--for the millionth time in a row, and suddenly felt calm and clear that it was time to stop. For whatever reason, my body just isn't going to keep making milk. The lactation consultant says she's never seen anything like it. David and I figure we'll never know why, but I do have a history of hormonal weirdnesses, so maybe that's it.
Anyway, as with most difficult decisions, I feel enormously better now that the decision is made. I do have some feelings like I failed, and I keep checking in with David that he's not mad at me or anything, and yet it is completely clear that if it had been possible, I would have done it. I took my fenugreek, I pumped like a fiend, I patiently and lovingly practiced breastfeeding with Eric. And I would have kept doing it as long as necessary, but my body did not cooperate. I feel 99% good about quitting--it would be impossible to feel perfectly good, even though I feel confident this is the right choice. It wouldn't have been the right choice yesterday, when I was still getting measurable, though small, amounts of milk, but today it is the right choice. In fact, it hardly feels like a choice at all. My body made the choice for me. I have simply submitted to it.
I had just been on the phone with the lactation consultant, and asked her, "How low can my milk supply go and still come back?" She thought awhile, and said, "If you can pump enough that at least 50% of what he's getting is breastmilk, you should be able to bring a full supply back." Well, I've been below 50% of his intake for a few days--he's only been getting all breastmilk because I was able to freeze so much during the high-production era. So it seemed clear that getting mere drops was not going to maintain enough of a base to build on.
The "other" lactation consultant--I've been sort of working with two--called to check in with me, and she agreed that today's milk output was a pretty unequivocal message to stop. That helped. She's a little better at emotional support that consultant number 2, I must say, and it was also helpful to have her say, "Yes, it is time to quit." I don't think our other consultant, Jane, would have done that. She was helpful with the home visit and so on, but was just not good at emotional support. As I was trying to decide whether to keep pumping, trying to figure out whether there was any hope my milk supply would rally, she wanted to be supportive but clearly didn?t know how. She kept telling me stories about women who persevered and everything was fine, but perseverance wasn't my problem--the dwindling milk supply was. She didn't know how to help me make a hard decision, and she wasn't willing to give bad news.
It was enormously helpful that Sandy, the LC from the hospital, called later in the day. She called after I had decided to stop pumping, but not long after--I could have gotten right back on the pump without having missed a session if she had suggested it was worthwhile. She went through everything with me: all the things I had tried, the log of my milk supply over the previous week, how often I was pumping, was I double-pumping, and then she was willing to say, "You have done everything possible, there is nothing else for you to try, it is time to quit." And then she spent some time on the phone with me offering good emotional support--the reminder that 3 weeks on breastmilk is a good start, for instance. She said that at the hospital when they have women who don't plan to breastfeed, they try to encourage them to breastfeed for just the first two weeks, because that early milk is so important and helpful for immune system development. And she reminded me to praise myself for everything I had done. It was so helpful to have an authority figure to help me make the decision, or to help me know that I had made a good decision.
Eric had his first bottle a little while ago. Still breast milk; we have about one feeding worth's left before we resort to the Enfamil. It took him a minute to figure it out but then I think he liked it. It's a lazy baby's dream--the milk just flows into his mouth.
It's funny, because I felt bad about taking away the chance to nurse from Eric, who is really close to figuring it out. Just this morning he managed part of a meal at the breast with the tube supplementer. But, you know, he doesn't care. He has no ego investment in being able to nurse, merely an instinctive drive to eat. And to be loved.
I am suddenly portable. I've been tethered to the milking machine for so long! I said to David, "We could go out to dinner tonight, now that the baby's taking a bottle." But then I realized that it wasn't Eric's feeding method that has tied us down, it was my pumping regimen, and the resulting fatigue. Things are going to be so much easier now, and David says I should let myself enjoy that without feeling guilty. I mean, I didn't stop pumping so we could go out to dinner tonight--but that doesn't mean I shouldn't enjoy dinner tonight.
Another benefit will be having time and energy to enjoy Eric more. He spends more and more time awake and loves to hang out with us then. He is such a joy. Yesterday he didn't eat much, we think because of the heat, but he's been in a feeding frenzy since midnight, eating every 90 minutes or two hours, and eating a lot. He is really filling out, though Adrianne laughed at me yesterday when I referred to his "chubby little arms and legs." Apparently he only looks chubby if you know how skinny he was before.
David says I should let myself enjoy the silver lining of this cloud. I'm going to be able to get more rest, because Eric will eat more quickly from a bottle and I won't have to also pump at night, and I'll have more time and energy during the daytimes. Again, I wouldn't have quit pumping just for that reason, but I do feel some relief about it. And it is so nice to be off the emotional rollercoaster I've been on the last three days. Perhaps they have been the hardest days of my life.
David and I discovered today that none of the pictures we have taken of Eric are going to come out. Sigh. Fortunately he is still cute and photogenic, but I think we are going to have to re-create a couple of early shots. I'm going to have to put him in the red union suit and purple hat and get a couple of elf-baby pictures real quick before he expires of heat prostration. We had taken some cute picture of him eating--when he's really hungry he east with his hands over his face, and then they slowly relax as he gets milk into him. There won't be any pictures of him finger-feeding now, but maybe that will be just as well. If only he doesn't stop being cute before we can buy a new roll of film!
Juno has taken on the task of guarding the baby. She loves to lie right near him when he is on the floor in his rubbermaid container, and she will bark the other dogs away from him if they get too close.
He's waking up again now. Probably hungry again, the little bottomless pit. Good thing I brought home the "Breastfeeding Success Kit" from Enfamil; it means we don't have to run out to the store right away for food.
Oh, that's all for now. I'm doing fine. A little sad but mostly relieved to have the ordeal over with.
Posted by Su Penn at June 15, 2003 10:27 AM | TrackBack