Breastfeeding, round II

Going in to my second pregnancy, I had no doubt that I would breastfeed. I knew it might not be easy, but I'm stubborn and figured I'd hope for the best. I decided I'd aim for the one-year mark again and hoped to follow a course similar to my breastfeeding journey with Elle.

Within days of Wesley's birth, however, I wondered if I was putting too much pressure on myself (it would not be the first time, and I'll admit right now that breastfeeding Elle for 13 months is a huge source of pride for me - I was definitely holding myself to those same standards with Wesley). Between hormones and early latch issues, the first few weeks of his life included several moments of questioning my initial goals and receiving carefully worded "permission" from my OB to give up my assumption that Wesley would receive breast milk only for the first 12 months of his life. My OB stressed the benefits that just six weeks of exclusive nursing provided to both Wesley and I. Tim and I discussed the options. And I decided to continue nursing, with a mini-goal of three months, then four months, on my horizon. (FYI: It's much easier to think about pumping for a few months rather than put a heavy "YEAR" expectation on yourself.)

Nursing Wesley has definitely gotten easier with time. At first, his initially stellar latch turned to a shallow, painful latch that had me wincing with every feeding. After my milk came in, though, it got better and continued to improve. By the time he was about a month old, I wasn't experiencing pain every time he ate, and his growth indicated that he was definitely getting enough milk.

"When's dinner, Ma?"

At about that same time, we introduced the bottle, which meant that I started pumping again. During those first few weeks, I pumped once, during the morning, on days that I had time to fit a pumping session in between his meals. It took two or three tries, but he eventually took to the bottle with no problem, and we established a good idea of how much he needed in each bottle (3-4 ounces at the time, which is now a definitive 4-preferably-4.5 ounces). I was able to freeze a small amount of milk, and when I returned to work, I planned to nurse whenever possible, pumping twice while at the office and pray that I could keep up with his demands.

Things in general are waaayyyy different this time around. When I was nursing Elle, I left for work around 3 p.m. and returned home around 1 a.m. I was lucky to be able to actually nurse her for almost every feeding except usually two, which meant I only needed to leave two bottles. I ended up with more frozen milk than I needed, and I was able to donate more than 400 ounces to other mothers in need of breast milk for their little ones. I pumped twice a day - once during my shift and once on my drive home (yes, I had quite a hook up that allowed me to pump hands-free while I drove safely, haha).

This recent photo of Elle is just to show that she's a stellar eater.

This time, I leave for work by 8 a.m. and leave at 5 p.m. I miss 3-4 feedings, so I'm trying to supply 3-4 bottles on any given day. While my supply is decent, it's still a challenge to keep up with demand. I take two pump breaks, usually one around 10:30 and the other around 2:30 p.m. Initially, I was getting just enough to keep up with Wesley's needs. But now I'm definitely short and almost always need another pump session before I go to bed to make sure he has enough for the next day. I try to freeze any extra milk that I have, but for the last several weeks, there hasn't been any extra to speak of. Things at work are getting busier, and it's getting harder for me to take the breaks - it's stressing me out to try to make sure I "schedule" them in.

I know I complained about my "pumping prison" when I nursed Elle, but that was a much better situation than my current scenario. My company is much smaller, in both number of employees and physical space. There is no place for me to pump except my car. So twice a day, I haul my stuff out to the car, pump and bring it all back inside to stow in a crowded, public fridge.

The pumping is obviously the worst part of breastfeeding right now - very annoying, time consuming, mechanical. But the actual nursing is something I will always treasure. From cuddling in the morning to taking a few minutes to sit down with the kids after a long day at work, I am the food source, but it is such an emotional experience.

Wesley is a physical eater - when he's nursing or even taking a bottle, his hands are always moving. He sometimes scratches his head, sometimes strokes your arm or - my favorite - finds and holds your fingers. As a second child, he's sometimes had to wait for a meal - he often melts down as I'm getting Elle out of the bath and just. wants. his. milk. When Elle had those moments of wanting milk NOW and having to wait, she would nurse furiously, glaring at me as tears dried in the corners of her eyes. Her reaction then is definitely an early indication of her dynamic personality today. Wesley, on the other hand. sinks in to an instant state of relaxation and relief. His eyes look grateful as he nurses, thankful that his needs were finally met. He'll often nurse to sleep at this point, likely out of pure physical and emotional exhaustion. While I'm not pleased that he gets to that point while I'm attending to Elle's needs, the balancing act often peaks with his bedtime nursing session, and it's definitely a notable one for me.

I memorized little crinkles in his ear during our first nursing sessions. I've since seen those newborn marks fade. I've stroked his hair - first short and dark blond, now longer, fluffy and light - during our nursing sessions. I've observed over and over as he has latched in the dark and gone right back to sleep during the early morning meals. I've soothed him. I've been burped and farted on, covered in spit up and kicked, scratched and pinched. While not always pleasant, the nursing sessions have always been educational and memorable.  

The nursing gymnastics have begun.
Personal space is fair game.

For personal and medical reasons (mine, not Wesley's!), as of this week I'm cutting back on the pumping sessions. Since I won't be producing as much milk, we'll be supplementing with formula. We gave him his first bottle of formula today - a day after he turned six months old. I know "feeding your baby is feeding your baby," but it's been an extremely emotional decision for me. I'm pretty passionate about breastfeeding - I will defend your right to breastfeed, support your efforts in breastfeed, encourage you to continue breastfeeding. I will sympathize with you as you nurse a teething baby, nod my head understandingly as you relate the perils of nursing a distracted and energetic infant and know exactly what you mean when you say the only thing that seemed to comfort your baby was nursing ... and nursing ... and nursing. I have loved it (not every minute of it, haha, but overall!) and hope to continue nursing Wesley for at least a few more months.

The decision was mine to make, but it's been hard to come terms with for multiple reasons. Regardless of the emotion involved, I've been contemplating introducing formula for months. I was intimidated, too, having absolutely no experience with formula, and I grilled our pediatrician at Wesley's last appointment, going over all kinds of "formula newbie" questions with her to prepare for when the time would come. I finally decided to make it to six months with exclusive breastmilk for several reasons (including all of the benefits both he and I have gotten and will have), because I knew it was a milestone for benefits, I knew it was an attainable goal and I didn't want to wait too long to introduce formula for fear of him rejecting it. (Elle was such a breast milk baby that she never took to any other milk form, and while I don't think that was an awful thing, it definitely played a role in my thought process). It's the same reason we introduced a bottle with both kids within the first few weeks, and thankfully, after six months of breast milk only, the kid hesitantly took the formula. Tim said he wasn't too thrilled about it at first and slowly drank two ounces but then sucked down another two ounces fairly quickly. I can only hope that the next few days go as smoothly and he continues cooperating.

Bananas are pretty funny.

We're also introducing solids (via Baby Led Weaning) at the same time - last night he sat with us at the dinner table in the high chair for the first time and played with some banana with his tiny, chubby hands. He wasn't too interested in eating any actual banana pieces, but he seemed to like his banana-flavored thumbs. He's been extremely interested in our plates and food for the last month and a half, and I'm excited to see how things go as he explores new textures and flavors.

Free at last

On Tuesday night, I got home from work and put my pumped breast milk in the fridge. I washed my pump parts and unpacked the remnants of my lunch. 

On Wednesday, I said goodbye to Elle, picked up my lunch bag and purse and walked out the door.

I got to work and went straight to my desk.

I left the building on my dinner break for only the fourth time since returning from maternity leave in mid October. The first three times I had ventured out were for job candidate dinner interviews. This time, I went to Pier 1 to see if my local store had something my sister hadn't been able to locate at her local store.

When I left work that night, I walked down three flights of stairs and out the front door.

I went home, unpacked my lunch bag and sat down on the couch with my husband to talk about our days.

Why is any of this important?

Because I didn't take my breast pump to work on Wednesday. Or any day since then.

Since I wasn't pumping during a break from work, I could go run an errand. I could bypass the nursing mother's room on my way in and out of the office. I could go straight home and not have to mess with any milk or pump parts.

The pump is history. I have a freezer stash, but Elle is drinking a lot less breast milk these days, and I'm still nursing her when I'm with her. Being pump-less is ridiculously liberating. I mean, I know it was important in keeping up my supply and providing Elle with breast milk for her first year, but I couldn't take another day. I realized I didn't have to. And now I don't have to complain about it on the blog anymore, so it's win-win for everyone :)

And in the interest of including a photo with this post, I share this funny notepad I spotted at Pier 1: 

Travel log, 7.17.11

I'm facing a bit of technical difficulty/laziness in uploading the majority of my photos right now, but rest assured, there are plenty, and they are super cute. So for now, you get another "random observations about my life and traveling" post. This also means you'll get a few posts full of pictures whenever I'm able to upload everything.

You're welcome.

* * *

Dear Mom and Dad,
I know we had a talk earlier about getting central air, but I just wanted to make sure you remembered it.
Love,
Your daughter who has no idea how she lived without it for the majority of the first 25 years of her life.

* * *

After my day 'o travel with Elle, I was nostalgic for the time when I was the young woman on a layover carrying one bag, one latte and one paperback book or magazine to read while tucked away in an area near my gate. Instead, I had one stroller, one baby and one uber large bag with contents unknown trying to let her daughter expend every last inch of energy before boarding the plane. I'm thankful for Elle, but I have a new appreciation for the days when my biggest concern was vanilla latte or caramel macchiato.

* * * 

I should be pumping right now. But I'm not! It's the end of my end-of-the-night pumping session. Last night was the last one I plan on doing. When I return to work, I'll continue the once-a-shift pumping schedule until the end of the month, and then I'll gradually phase that one out, too. (Hi. I'm slightly excited about this.)

* * *

Elle is usually a pretty, um, "regular" baby. But for the two days before we left Florida, we had very little action on the bowel front. I was terrified that she'd unleash a fury of digestive activity on the plane and leave solo travelin' mama with all of the fun. Alas, little girl waited until the next day to work on things, and life is good again. (Thank you, sweet baby.)

* * * 

The cleaning of my old closet did commence, and I found some super funny stuff. If the National Scrunchy Society is looking for donations, I'm alllll over that. And apparently I went through quite a beading phase in middle and/or high school. My apologies to Belinda Carlisle and Paula Abdul, as well as all of the super cool mixed tapes that bit the dust in the cleanse. But hooray! I found three of my old Barbies and my two-legged Ken doll (What? You didn't have a one-legged Ken doll that didn't survive adolescence?!) as well as some accessories that I can pass on to Elle.

* * *

The weather in Ohio was glorious when we arrived. Warm, but not too hot, and warm, but not humid. (These things are big for me.) On Thursday morning, I headed out for a run in my childhood neighborhood. I mentally planned out my route, including my warm up, and set off after Elle was down for her morning nap. My mentally proposed warm up went by in a flash - it seems my old neighborhood is a lot smaller than I remember it. That meant I had to rethink the rest of my run, too, but it was weird being back in the old 'hood as a 30-year-old runner, as opposed to the child or teenager who walked it or biked to and from friends' houses. I saw houses for sale, houses that have been remodeled and houses that no longer belong to people I know. I didn't start running until a few years ago, so pounding the pavement here was a totally different experience, and it took me back down memory lane a bit. Tim and I went out for a run yesterday morning, and that one struck me because it was a) the first time we've really worked out together in almost a year (since the day before Elle was born, really) and b) a chance to voice to him all of the differences that exist between my "then" and the neighborhood's "now."

* * * 

Tim and I came home from a wedding last night and headed to bed soon after. Elle is bunking in a pack-n-play in the same room as us, and apparently we caught her mid-sleep cycle because she started to stir. We tried to silently peel back the covers and crawl in to bed without a sound, but it didn't work. She KNEW we were there, and she was awake and wanted to party. We got her to quiet down and steered back toward Dreamland ... but about 35 minutes later, after I thought she had long been asleep, she had a two-minute conversation with herself that consisted of repeated strains of: "Giggle giggle. *haha* Giggle. Whee be doo beeeeee. Giggle. *ha*." It was hard not to laugh, or even turn to Tim and say, "What the heck?!" But I didn't dare chance engaging her.

My Pumping Prison

I've mentioned before how much I hate pumping. And every time I think that, I remind myself of the Super Women Exclusive Pumpers who pump many more times a day just so that their babies can have their breast milk, and I tell myself to suck it up and stop whining.

But it occurred to me that I've never really shared much information about the dungeon in which I pump :)

I must say that I am extremely grateful that my workplace provides a specific area for nursing mothers to pump. Federal law requires all employers to allow nursing mothers to take unpaid breaks, and I *believe* Florida law requires any company with more than 50 employees to provide a place for breastfeeding mothers to nurse or pump.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted to breastfeed, including long after my maternity leave would end. I suddenly started looking at my workplace with new eyes. I looked for outlets, for tucked away conference rooms, for bathrooms that received little to no traffic. I feared that I would be stuck sitting in one of the bathrooms, pumping 2-3 times a shift.

A few months in to my pregnancy, I was talking to a friend in human resources about my short-term disability coverage and other specifics of my maternity leave. I mentioned something about planning to breastfeed and her eyes lit up. She asked if I knew about the nursing mother's room.

"The what?" I said.

She took me down a hallway and we ended in front of a door I'd never seen before. There was a sign:

And then she showed me the mini-fridge, the outlets, how the door locked, etc. And while it's nice to have the designated space to pump, I've had several problems:

1. It's ug-lay. This room has no personality, no charm, no warmth. It barely has cell phone reception.

You know you're jealous.

2. The arm chair is good for naps, but not for pumping. It tilts back too far to comfortably pump anything, so that leaves ...

3. The uncomfortable office chair.

4. The security guards (and some former staffers - former, because apparently they were caught) apparently use the room for naps. I found this out one afternoon when I opened the door and a big, burly security guard acted in surprise, saying he was taking a snooze between shifts. I said, "Sorry, but I need to use this room right now." I don't have anything against expectant moms using the room - goodness knows if I knew this room existed when I was in the throes of all day morning sickness, I would have retreated there myself - but I'm not a fan of people looking for a cushy chair parking themselves in there.

5. The room is on the deserted first floor. I work on the third floor, and I often feel like I'm being banished to the basement when I go pump.

There aren't a lot of women in my building who use the room - by my count, there have been three other women who have pumped during my (now 11!) months using the room. I work nights and weekends, and the other moms work Monday-Friday day shifts. I'm sure I could have livened the room up a bit - brought in some posters, fake flowers, air fresheners, lamps, etc. But I don't know what other people like/don't like. Maybe one of the other pumping mamas has a traumatic childhood memory of tulips. Or one of the mamas is sensitive to the smell of a plug-in air freshener? Best not to mess with the room, I decided.

I don't really have fond memories of this room. There have been at least two times when I knocked something over or a storage bag tipped, and I lost precious ounces of milk.

Sad face. Very, very sad face.

The first time this happened, my sister sent me a hilarious card, and it is so, so true:

I was lying awake in bed the other night and calculated the rest of my pumping days (that's how eager I am to be done with the pump). We're going on a trip in a few weeks, and I need to keep up my extra pumping session (the one I do on my way home from work during my work week to keep me from getting too engorged over night) until I have enough milk for 2-3 bottles while we're on the trip. Then I can drop that session. And when we come back to Florida right before (gasp!) Elle's first birthday, I will likely stop pumping at work, too - leaving only 2-3 nursing sessions a day for the foreseeable future. I'm not going to stop breastfeeding automatically at one year - but I not going to stay married to the pump.

My pumping sessions have sometimes brought a much-needed break from work, but it would be nice to not be a necessary break. I work at a newspaper, and the natural course of my shift ebbs and flows, but sometimes there is breaking news and I'm not able to get away to pump. This gets more common in the fall, with hectic football and baseball schedules, and lately I've been stressing about stepping away from my desk to pump. So pumping is not only a pain, it's going to become increasingly more difficult to do in the coming months. My work-time pumping gave me a chance to read books, clip coupons, cross-stitch and catch up on little stuff that I never stop long enough to finish at home, like thank you notes and grocery lists. But that was the only perk. I trek down three flights of stairs each day, lock myself in the window-less room and sit there for 20-30 minutes. On my way in to my office, I stop there and drop my pump off. On my way out of the office, I stop and pick up my pump, pump parts and refrigerated milk. (And let's not even get in to the pain that is the preparing of bottles, cleaning of pump parts and freezing of milk, because 'tis not fun.)

So while I'm glad that I've been able to pump and supply breast milk for Elle (and others!), I am counting down the days til I don't have to worry about it anymore. I have no idea how I've done it this long (except for the fact that I'm incredibly stubborn and kept thinking 'I've made it this far, I should just keep going'). It's been extremely important to me to breastfeed Elle for the first year of her life, but I would be lying if I said I didn't want to stop pumping ASAP.

I have mad respect for moms who exclusively pump - you women rock.And I hope your pumping set-up is a little cheerier than mine :)

Got milk?

I try to be a generous person. What I don't have in time (because c'mon, I work full-time, have a 40-minute commute to and from work, take care of our household, try to have a life and spend time with my husband ... and oh yeah, I also work full-time for Elle, Inc.) and money (newsflash: journalists don't make a ton of dough), I try to give in sentiment. I feel very strongly about several things, so rather than donate or volunteer for every charity or cause under the sun (or ask my friends and family to donate to every charity and cause under the sun), I pick the ones that are closest to my heart.

I have donated some rather off-the-wall stuff in the last decade or so. In college, I chopped off 10 inches of my hair and donated to Locks of Love. Last year, I shipped my wedding dress to Brides Against Breast Cancer.

And now? I've donated breast milk.

Yeah, I know.

But hear me out.

I pump once while I'm at work and then once on the way home from work. (And when I first returned to work, I was pumping twice at work and once on the way home.) I usually produce enough for at least three bottles in those sessions, and Elle only needs 1-2 bottles while I'm at work. So each week, I have a surplus of milk - lately, I freeze about 50 ounces of milk each week. I have to keep pumping to a) keep up my supply and b) prevent engorgement/other problems, so reducing the pumping sessions isn't a real viable option right now. I freeze the milk, and at first I was rotating in a bottle of frozen milk every day, but then I just got away from that, and the freezer stash grew. And grew. And grew, to epic proportions.

At that point, I realized Elle would never need that much frozen milk. I plan to breastfeed her until she's at least 1, and after that, we'll see what happens. I really would like to stop pumping at that point, but for now, the stash has been growing and outweighing our need.

So I asked my breastfeeding support group about ways to donate milk. Several of them suggested national milk banks, which I had heard about. There are a lot of national milk banks that accept donated milk. They often require a minumum amount of milk (like 200 ounces), and with most of them, there is (understandably) a lot of paperwork to fill out. Another issue specific to me is that I'm on a low dosage of a precription medication. These banks accept milk from mothers on some medications, but when I contacted them to find out if I could donate, they said they were unable to accept a donation from me. The amount of medication that Elle might get from my milk is minute, but when the donated milk is pooled together, my little bit of medication might be added to milk from a mother taking a different, incompatible medication, or result in milk that has a high amount of medication. Totally understandable.

But another member of the breastfeeding group mentioned a more grassroots, person-to-person group. 

I joined the group on Facbeook - it used to be called "Eats on Feets" but is now "Human Milk 4 Human Babies." I joined the Florida Facebook group, and there are discussion groups where moms can post requests for and donations of expressed breast milk. There are FB pages for various states and regions.

My first donation - about 220 ounces of milk.

Soon after I joined and posted that I had extra milk, a mother from a few hours away contacted me. She has a severe case of psoriasis and needed to take a strong medication that would prevent her from breastfeeding for an extended period of time. I was up front with her, explaining that I drink caffeine in moderation, occasionally drink alcohol and was on a low dosage of prescription medication. She checked with her lactation consultant and decided that the milk was safe for her daughter. Another mom was donating milk to her, and we met up so she could get my milk to take the rest of the way to the mom in need. I ended up giving her about 220 ounces of my oldest milk, which had been stored in a deep freezer.

A few weeks ago, I realized our freezer was being overtaken by plastic Lansinoh bags again and posted on the group's FB page. A few moms inquired about the milk but weren't comfortable taking milk that might contain traces of a prescription medication.

But last month, I received a message from another mom who is no longer able to breastfeed or pump for her son because of health issues. Her supply was dwindling, and I had stockpiled another 200-300 ounces that a) I didn't need and b) was taking up precious space in our chest freezer. Her son was premature and has a lot of health problems. We met up at our local Target and "exchanged the goods." (Seriously, it's kinda weird - Tim asked if I was selling my breast milk, like on the black market. Not so.) 

I know it's not for everyone, but for moms who are committed to providing breast milk for their babies and are unable - for whatever reason - to produce any or enough milk for their child(ren), donor milk is an amazing option. The pro (and con) of this group is that there aren't regulations or a governing body - no forms to fill out, no requirements to be met ... it's all based on the comfort level and honesty of the donor and the recipient. The first mom I donated to requested copies of my bloodwork from my OB, and some moms who donate require signed releases denying liability.

There are so many women who have milk to donate, and so many mothers and babies in need. It's been fascinating to see this network unfold. Mothers drive hours to pick up or deliver milk. Others will mail their milk for only the cost of shipping and handling. Some moms provide milk or need milk while in town on vacation for a week or two.

It's a community I never imagined existed and certainly never pictured myself joining, but I'm touched by the generosity and grateful for the chance to help others.