Pumped Up
So, that post where I battled what to do about pumping? Well, about a week and a half has passed since then, and I thought I'd update.
I gave up pumping.
Obviously, I felt quite conflicted. But as the day wore on, I processed the decision to stop, and I felt lighter and lighter, the burden of pumping--its hassle, time, planning, preparation, clean up, supply worry--falling away, hassling piece by hassling piece.
Of course, by the time Chris returned home, he told me that he didn't want the pump's busted motor to decide when I stopped; he wanted ME to decide. We could get another $300 pump, he said. Absolutely, if it's important to you.
Oh.
To make matters worse, I learned that pumps were now FSA-reimbursable. We hadn't set aside FSA funds for a pump, but we could probably fit it in.
So, maybe I didn't actually have to give up pumping after all.
I also toyed with the idea of a manual pump, which a couple friends pointed out worked fairly well (I didn't realize this--I didn't think manuals worked). But a manual really wasn't an option for work.
Here's the thing: I had already processed the decision. I had already started letting the angst and guilt go.
"I want to stop pumping," I told Chris. He nodded. And that was that. (I wanted to keep the morning and evening nursing, though. For Lorelei and me, that's our thing.)
The next day began gloriously, as not needing to be around Lorelei to either nurse or pump a bottle for my absence freed me to take Charlotte to a birthday party (and lose her, if you'll recall). I basked in my newfound freedom. Chris got some solo time with Lorelei (previously very difficult, due to nursing needs), and I got some solo time with Charlotte--a very rare thing these days.
Breastfeeding propaganda doesn't tell you about these perks, does it? And these are not minor perks. We're talking about daddies bonding with their babies, and mommies having one-one-one time with an older child.
Life was good. Until.
My body was going to need to adapt to the missed pumping midday, so by evening, I was pretty darn ready for Lorelei to eat. She did great on one side and then . . . . fell asleep.
No! We still had another side to go!
Oh, I did everything I could to lure her awake and get her to feed. I even had Charlotte irritate her (I mean, play with her), to see if she could perk up her sister a bit for more feeding.
Alas, Lorelei was full, satisfied, and wanted to sleep.
And I had no working pump.
I didn't sleep at all on Saturday night, I was soooooo uncomfortable. I debated waking Lorelei around 2:30 to get some relief.
Of course she slept through the night. Of course! By dawn, I couldn't even move---it was too painful. FINALLY she woke up and had, obviously, a big fat feeding. By sheer dumb luck, I didn't get a plugged duct or any other problem. A freaking miracle.
So, Sunday I nursed all day long to clear the milk backlog. My supply could take another shot to even itself out the next day, I figured. Sunday night was more comfy, Monday was uncomfortable at work, and so on. However, the good outweighed the bad. On Monday morning, when Chris dropped me off at my office (we carpool), I grabbed my ONE large handbag and merrily skipped into work, free of breastfeeding equipment, bottles, parts, coolers, and cords. Since before Lorelei was born, it was the first time I didn't feel like a pack mule walking into the building.
By this past weekend, my body finally adapted and seems to have the just-right amount for a good morning feeding and a nice evening feeding.
And honestly, Lorelei seems to be sleeping better with the new feeding routine. My theory is that because I'm not pumping during the day, I have a bit more to offer her in the evening, and she's getting a more satisfying feeding before bed. She has been (dare I type it?) sleeping through the night---consistently.
On the first Monday I dropped Lorelei off at school with three bottles of formula, I explained to her teacher, "These bottles are all formula. My pump broke, so it seemed like a good excuse to stop."
She laughed. "You're so calm about it!"
Fine, so she had no idea the angst I had endured to freaking DECIDE. But in my mission to ratchet down Breast is Best crap, I just shrugged. "Eh," I said. "It was such a hassle, and I decided it just wasn't worth it for me anymore." Which was true. Every word.
I decided guilt was a waste of energy I don't really have. I chose to embrace the freedom of not pumping, of moving to this next stage of my relationship with Lorelei. I had seen myself oh so devotedly continuing to pump, to proving to Lorelei and myself that I was Not A Crappy Mom, but reality was going to work itself out differently. Opportunity for greater freedom, for more enjoyment of my kids, especially Lorelei, had unexpectedly knocked. I had become so focused on the breastfeeding/pumping way of life that I had forgotten the value of NOT pumping, of NOT measuring days in ounces, of NOT spending time preparing for and actually pumping.
My body--which has been on loan to Lorelei since mid-January 2012--became just a bit more mine. It's sounds lame--I mean, we're just talking about pumping here--but I felt like I got a piece of mySELF back. A pre-mommy part of Ashley.
And when I realized that, all the infantilizing breastfeeding pressure seemed idiotic. Last night, I saw Mayor Bloomberg (one of my least favorite humans on earth) on TV, and he just looked like an utterly ignorant fascist to me. Declaring himself the decider of how much soda you should(not) drink, and how much of your body and yourself you need to devote to a baby, for the good of the national obesity rate. (I won't even go into very iffy science behind Breast Is Best health benefits, particularly the obesity connection.) Bloomberg is incredibly clueless as to the wholly consuming bodily commitment breastfeeding requires--right on the heels of pregnancy and childbirth, mind you--and the arguably misogynistic control that he, the World Health Organization, other powerful organizations, hospitals, and your labor and delivery nurse are exerting over women.
But only if we let them, no?
However, backlash is beginning, which is fantastic. I'm not going to say that breastfeeding Lorelei was worth it, because who knows if it really was or not. Regardless, no one can take away those 5+ months of breastfeeding her, and what I'm left with are the sweet, morning and evening Lorelei-and-mommy nursing sessions, not the breast-milk-is-the-holy-grail-of-maternal-devotion-so-obtain-it-at-all-costs crap.
No, Lorelei and I have cherry-picked our feeding routine, creating a mix-and-match combination of formula and nursing that suits us, and we're left with the good stuff: morning and bedtime. I'm not ready to wean altogether---I'm just not. I need that cozy time with her babyness. I just do. After a week and a half, I feel (surprisingly!) very good and very at peace in where we are now with feeding.
And that is new.
I gave up pumping.
Obviously, I felt quite conflicted. But as the day wore on, I processed the decision to stop, and I felt lighter and lighter, the burden of pumping--its hassle, time, planning, preparation, clean up, supply worry--falling away, hassling piece by hassling piece.
Of course, by the time Chris returned home, he told me that he didn't want the pump's busted motor to decide when I stopped; he wanted ME to decide. We could get another $300 pump, he said. Absolutely, if it's important to you.
Oh.
To make matters worse, I learned that pumps were now FSA-reimbursable. We hadn't set aside FSA funds for a pump, but we could probably fit it in.
So, maybe I didn't actually have to give up pumping after all.
I also toyed with the idea of a manual pump, which a couple friends pointed out worked fairly well (I didn't realize this--I didn't think manuals worked). But a manual really wasn't an option for work.
Here's the thing: I had already processed the decision. I had already started letting the angst and guilt go.
"I want to stop pumping," I told Chris. He nodded. And that was that. (I wanted to keep the morning and evening nursing, though. For Lorelei and me, that's our thing.)
The next day began gloriously, as not needing to be around Lorelei to either nurse or pump a bottle for my absence freed me to take Charlotte to a birthday party (and lose her, if you'll recall). I basked in my newfound freedom. Chris got some solo time with Lorelei (previously very difficult, due to nursing needs), and I got some solo time with Charlotte--a very rare thing these days.
Breastfeeding propaganda doesn't tell you about these perks, does it? And these are not minor perks. We're talking about daddies bonding with their babies, and mommies having one-one-one time with an older child.
Life was good. Until.
My body was going to need to adapt to the missed pumping midday, so by evening, I was pretty darn ready for Lorelei to eat. She did great on one side and then . . . . fell asleep.
No! We still had another side to go!
Oh, I did everything I could to lure her awake and get her to feed. I even had Charlotte irritate her (I mean, play with her), to see if she could perk up her sister a bit for more feeding.
Alas, Lorelei was full, satisfied, and wanted to sleep.
And I had no working pump.
I didn't sleep at all on Saturday night, I was soooooo uncomfortable. I debated waking Lorelei around 2:30 to get some relief.
Of course she slept through the night. Of course! By dawn, I couldn't even move---it was too painful. FINALLY she woke up and had, obviously, a big fat feeding. By sheer dumb luck, I didn't get a plugged duct or any other problem. A freaking miracle.
So, Sunday I nursed all day long to clear the milk backlog. My supply could take another shot to even itself out the next day, I figured. Sunday night was more comfy, Monday was uncomfortable at work, and so on. However, the good outweighed the bad. On Monday morning, when Chris dropped me off at my office (we carpool), I grabbed my ONE large handbag and merrily skipped into work, free of breastfeeding equipment, bottles, parts, coolers, and cords. Since before Lorelei was born, it was the first time I didn't feel like a pack mule walking into the building.
By this past weekend, my body finally adapted and seems to have the just-right amount for a good morning feeding and a nice evening feeding.
And honestly, Lorelei seems to be sleeping better with the new feeding routine. My theory is that because I'm not pumping during the day, I have a bit more to offer her in the evening, and she's getting a more satisfying feeding before bed. She has been (dare I type it?) sleeping through the night---consistently.
On the first Monday I dropped Lorelei off at school with three bottles of formula, I explained to her teacher, "These bottles are all formula. My pump broke, so it seemed like a good excuse to stop."
She laughed. "You're so calm about it!"
Fine, so she had no idea the angst I had endured to freaking DECIDE. But in my mission to ratchet down Breast is Best crap, I just shrugged. "Eh," I said. "It was such a hassle, and I decided it just wasn't worth it for me anymore." Which was true. Every word.
I decided guilt was a waste of energy I don't really have. I chose to embrace the freedom of not pumping, of moving to this next stage of my relationship with Lorelei. I had seen myself oh so devotedly continuing to pump, to proving to Lorelei and myself that I was Not A Crappy Mom, but reality was going to work itself out differently. Opportunity for greater freedom, for more enjoyment of my kids, especially Lorelei, had unexpectedly knocked. I had become so focused on the breastfeeding/pumping way of life that I had forgotten the value of NOT pumping, of NOT measuring days in ounces, of NOT spending time preparing for and actually pumping.
My body--which has been on loan to Lorelei since mid-January 2012--became just a bit more mine. It's sounds lame--I mean, we're just talking about pumping here--but I felt like I got a piece of mySELF back. A pre-mommy part of Ashley.
And when I realized that, all the infantilizing breastfeeding pressure seemed idiotic. Last night, I saw Mayor Bloomberg (one of my least favorite humans on earth) on TV, and he just looked like an utterly ignorant fascist to me. Declaring himself the decider of how much soda you should(not) drink, and how much of your body and yourself you need to devote to a baby, for the good of the national obesity rate. (I won't even go into very iffy science behind Breast Is Best health benefits, particularly the obesity connection.) Bloomberg is incredibly clueless as to the wholly consuming bodily commitment breastfeeding requires--right on the heels of pregnancy and childbirth, mind you--and the arguably misogynistic control that he, the World Health Organization, other powerful organizations, hospitals, and your labor and delivery nurse are exerting over women.
But only if we let them, no?
However, backlash is beginning, which is fantastic. I'm not going to say that breastfeeding Lorelei was worth it, because who knows if it really was or not. Regardless, no one can take away those 5+ months of breastfeeding her, and what I'm left with are the sweet, morning and evening Lorelei-and-mommy nursing sessions, not the breast-milk-is-the-holy-grail-of-maternal-devotion-so-obtain-it-at-all-costs crap.
No, Lorelei and I have cherry-picked our feeding routine, creating a mix-and-match combination of formula and nursing that suits us, and we're left with the good stuff: morning and bedtime. I'm not ready to wean altogether---I'm just not. I need that cozy time with her babyness. I just do. After a week and a half, I feel (surprisingly!) very good and very at peace in where we are now with feeding.
And that is new.
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