I don’t give up. Knock me down and I get back up again. It’s embedded in who I am. According to tests I’ve taken, my core strength is that I persist. And, by all that is holy in this world, that is the truth.
I’ve been through some shit in my lifetime, like the rest of us. But I’ve endured. So, what is making me write about all of this now?
Breastfeeding.
If you don’t care to hear more about milk, boobs, and the agony I’ve been in for the past month or so, carry on. If you want to commiserate with me and talk about milk supply and clogged ducts, keep on reading friends.
I’ve breastfed all my kids. Gianna, Scarlett, and now Evie. I don’t really recall having that much difficulty with the first two. However, this time with Evie I’ve been struggling from the onset. I don’t know if it’s because I’m older or what.
Have my grapes turned into raisins?
Starting off
Evie had a rough go of things upon shooting out of me and into this crazy ass world. Specifically in terms of breastfeeding, she wasn’t a ‘vigorous eater’ according to the lactation consultant at the hospital. Which basically meant she didn’t chow down on my boobs the way she was supposed to. She would rather sleep than eat.
The hospital I delivered at is kinda religious, strongly promoting the ‘breast is best’ tagline. Which I’m onboard with. Totally fine. However, they never once offered me formula for Evie, despite the struggles I was facing. I even had to pull in favors for them to give me a binkie. Apparently, they saved those only for the circumcised boys to help calm them down after their wee bits are cut off.
Since Evie wasn’t going to town on my boobs, and they were opposed to formula, they decided the best course of action was to have me self-express onto a spoon. A damn spoon. To which I would then suck up the tiny drops with a syringe and feed her like a baby bird. Or my other option was to hold the spoon to her mouth so she could ‘lap it up’ in their terms. Seriously.
Like a damn cat?
Just imagine me squeezing my boob in the bathroom. Wearing my ass-hanging-out-hospital gown, size XXXXXXL post delivery undies, and rubber bottom socks. Weakly standing at the sink, staring intently at the spoon as the tiny drops of liquid gold slowly oozed out.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. But I didn’t give up. Oh no. I don’t give up. I persisted, dammit. If I had to squeeze milliliters of milk onto a spoon for my baby, I would. Because I breastfeed.
I can’t give up. Right?
Fast Forward to Now
That struggle in the beginning didn’t last. Evie, thankfully, started to realize that boobs are awesome. She happily chowed down every hour on the hour or more so, depending on her growing needs. We didn’t have any issues for a few months.
Until recently.
Around the 3-4 month mark, it seemed like Evie was becoming unsatisfied. Like she just wasn’t getting enough anymore. She regressed in terms of sleeping at night. Going from a 5 hour stretch to max 2 hours. She always napped like shit during the day, but I used to be able to count on some nighttime shut eye to make up for it.
I felt awful. Why wasn’t my body making enough food for her? I started upping my calories, drinking Body Armors to make sure I was hydrated, eating lactation cookies, drinking fenugreek tea, power pumping. You name it. I think I did it. And it seem to work. Yeah! Persistence pays off! She seemed to be more satisfied.
Clogged
Everything was going smoothly enough, until Miss Evangeline decided one night to sleep for 7 hours straight. The nerve of her. This lovely stretch of zzz’s was pretty friggin awesome. If you’ve had a baby, you know what that first night of long sleep feels like. Heaven. Pure heaven. That mixed with a dose of panic of course because you think your baby must be dead to have slept so long. But, then you flood with joy to realize, no….they just slept!! Hoorah!
However, I think that because of extended stretch of sleep my milk ducts became blocked. Think of it like a hose. Where you turn the water on full blast but then put a kink in the hose to stop the flow. That’s exactly what my boob felt like. Hard and sore and nothing was coming out. NOTHING. ARRRRGGGHHHHH.
The boob was only backed up for a day, but it seemed like forever. I tried hand massaging. Laying on my back and rubbing the hell out of my boobs. I tried warm compresses, showers, and pumping. And, despite my persistence, I broke down and tried giving her formula. Guess what, folks. She fucking hated it. Yup. I tried 2 different kinds of formula and she made a face exactly like Gianna does when she’s forced to eat broccoli.
Evie refused to drink it.
What’s a Mom to Do
I was at my wits end. I cried out of frustration. Relief did come.
Finally, at night when she was probably still half asleep. Evie managed to unkink the damn hose ,and a flood of relief/milk came out. I’m still sore but the lecithin pills seem to be helping. Supposedly they are supposed to flush you out and get rid/prevent clogged ducts.
Anyways, I don’t want to give up breastfeeding. Because I don’t like to give up. It’s not who I am. I’m not saying that anyone that chooses to feed formula is doing something wrong or weak. It’s just not a decision I really want to make. Because I made a commitment.
These boobs of mine are going to do their job, dammit. I’m going to keep squeezing and loading my body up with whatever herbs or seeds the experts say I need. Until I’ve exhausted everything. And then, only then, will I give up.
You get a high score from me in all you do Krissy. Your family is lucky you are such a determined person about everything you do!!!?