Feeding the Baby

Natalie got a few dolls for her birthday, and surprisingly, Sam has been playing with them every so often. He's especially interested in the one that drinks her bottle, then wets her diaper.

Last night, I was cooking supper when he came into the kitchen clutching that doll. He said, "I'm feeding the baby!" and I said "mm-hmm" absentmindedly, without even looking. Then I finally looked up and, rather than seeing Sam feeding her a bottle, he was proudly nursing the baby.

I'm glad he still sees mama's milk as the natural way of things, in spite of Natalie being exclusively bottle-fed for the past four months.

Milkmaid No More

After a long, close personal relationship with my breastpump for all but 3 months of the past 2 1/2 years, I think it is finally over between us. This wasn't how (or when) I saw it ending, but it is what it is.

I ended up weaning Sammy earlier than I wanted to, at 17 months old. At the time, I was 6 months pregnant with Natalie, and since becoming pregnant, nursing was not only painful but gave me a creepy-crawly feeling similar to hearing nails on a chalkboard. So when he started going for a day at a time without asking to nurse, it only took a little gentle encouragement on my part to wean him. I was sad about our nursing relationship ending, especially since I had hoped to nurse him until he was two years old, but I was also really ready at that point.

Then came Natalie. Since she is my last baby, I planned to nurse her as long as she wanted to, envisioning that I would have to be the one to put an end to it at some point. Wouldn't you know, she ended up being born with a mind of her own (imagine that!) and soon, the little baby who wouldn't deign to let a silicone nipple pass her lips for the first three months of her life started daycare, and learned to love and prefer the bottle. By six months old, the only time she would nurse was in the middle of the night, when she was too tired to care what method was used to deliver her milk, as long as it got into her belly, stat.

About a month ago, she stopped nursing at night. It was up to me and my trusty pump to keep her supplied with mama's milk. Unfortunately, due to renovations at work, I no longer have a private room to pump, so that set me pretty far back. Most of the time at home, it's all I can do to keep the kids fed, clean, and happy, so finding 10 minutes to sit down and hook myself up to the milkers is a near impossibility. So I ended up pumping only twice a day, which quickly went down to once. Yesterday, I realized I'm only pumping 2 oz. per day - not even half a bottle worth - and finally decided it's time to throw in the towel.

The good part? I can now finally concentrate on losing the last 10 pounds of my pregnancy weight (from my pregnancy with Sammy!) and hopefully a little more. In the past, every time I've tried to diet, my milk supply has crashed. And the next time I get a cold, I can take cold medicine. Oh, how I've missed my cold medicine over the last 2 1/2 years, in which I've averaged a cold a month during the winter months, thanks to all the viruses the kids drag home from daycare.

I suppose now I'll have to change the name of my blog...

I keep a spray bottle of water on the bathroom sink for taming my hair in the morning. Since the water sits in the bottle for a few days at a time, I don't allow Sammy to drink it, although he has to try at least once a day. This morning, he'd only been awake for a few minutes when he crept into the bathroom, quickly snatched the bottle, and made a run for it. I followed and caught up with him in the living room, where he had already unscrewed the top and was just about to take a big swig. When he saw me coming, he dumped the water all over the living room floor, evidently deciding that was a good way to hide the evidence. Unfortunately, he miscalculated my position and I witnessed the whole thing. Today's accomplishment: he set a new personal record for quickest wake-up-to-first-time-out-of-the-day. And I got to mop up water from the living room carpet at 5:30 a.m.

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When I left for work, I slipped on my shoes and noticed that one felt a little strange. And the heel felt lower than the other one. Oddly, I jumped to the conclusion that my shoes were wearing unevenly. It wasn't until I was in the garage that I noticed I was wearing two different shoes. Worse yet, they were both for the left foot.

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Lastly, we are now in week 6 of a nursing strike. I've been putting forth my best effort at pumping to maintain my supply, but it is just not possible to pump in the afternoon and evenings, when both kids are awake, so Natalie has been having a lot of formula lately and my supply has been crashing. I've been very disappointed that our nursing relationship seems to be coming to an end already, but had decided that it would be okay. After all, I've been nursing most of the past 2 1/2 years, and it would be nice to no longer have to worry about what I eat and drink, or what medications or herbs I might take. Then last night, I had to deal with constipation (Natalie) for the first time ever. Now I am torn again over my decision. I've decided to put forth one last effort to regain my supply and today I'm popping fenugreek pills like candy. I know that there's nothing wrong with formula, and lots of kids have thrived on it, but I feel very disappointed at the thought of not making it to my one-year goal with Natalie. And since Sammy nursed until he was 16 months old, I feel guilty over not doing the same for her. Wish me luck.