Today Yery shares one of the things that makes her loca: breastmilk. You’ve heard me talk about breastfeeding but here’s an account of someone that has been exclusively pumping for six months (and counting).
These days it seems like everything I do is tied to my milk supply. That’s right; I am a human milk machine. I have a living breathing life that depends on me and this milk my glands produce. And yes, I know there is formula available to those who can’t or choose not to “nurse” but that would be too easy for me. Not only am I giving him breastmilk but I am pumping said milk.
Even BEFORE I was pregnant with my son I just knew I would be breast feeding. The whole notion was romanticized by hormones and people who swore their bond with their child is unbreakable because of breastfeeding. Of course I wanted to be the best mom ever and it seemed breastfeeding would help me achieve this title SO I wanted in. Then he was born.
He didn’t come how we planned of course. We had a water birth planned and ended up having a C-section. My dreams of laboring and then putting my boy to the breast were shattered. Our OB made sure he was not taken from me after he was born but he was way more interested in everything going on around than latching on. A couple non-sessions with a few lactation consultants coupled with me seeing how strong his suckle is and fearing for my nipples led me to pumping exclusively.
In the beginning I had to supplement with formula, another direct hit to my new mommy ego, but I was determined to give him breastmilk, even if I lost all my senses in the process. I pumped every 3 hours, even when it hurt, even when I was getting 2 oz after pumping for 45 minutes. I began talking to myself, setting alarms to remind me of something I needed no reminder of- Pump! Pump! Pump! You have a house full of people here to see and spend time with the baby? Who cares? PUMP! Your baby is crying because he wants to be held? Tell Daddy to hold him while you – PUMP! Your breasts itch like you have Ebola? Use that very thick stuff that barely helps at all and PUMP!
With all this pumping, slowly my milk production improved. As I began to make more milk I also began to obsess about how much milk I was making. Keeping track of every single drop pumped, comparing it to how much he drinks daily, adding more pump sessions to increase how much milk I make. These days I have a pretty good schedule set up. I’ve found a second pump that takes away some of the hassle of traveling with a pump to work and my boy is on some solids so he is easy on his demands of milk. Now on to obsessing about starting my freezer stash.
Why do I obsess you ask? I obsess because that’s what WE do, us Mamis. We obsess over skin, hair, clothes, food, runny noses, milestones, sleep and YES POOP too. I am an overachiever. I found my thing to obsess about EARLY in my motherhood career and I am going to be the BEST Breast Milk Obsessor EVER!
I am proud that Yery is in a good place with exclusively pumping. Although she claims she obsesses about it (and y’all, I get to hear a lot about her boobs), she is just doing what we all do: taking care of our babies in the best way we know how and to best of our abilities.