I think last time I mentioned how I “cured” my abysmal milk production problem that started once I went back to work. Alas, that cure was short-lived.
My milk definitely increased…for a little while. Then it started decreasing again slowwwwwly until we were right back to where we started. My sister had to start dipping into my (depleting) frozen supply once again. As of today I’m down to 5 ounces frozen…total. Because apparently I like to live on the edge.
I stress out about this daily (obviously). Because in the absence of real, serious problems I like to create my own. Not that diminishing supply isn’t a problem. But in the grand scheme of things, supplementing with formula is JUST FINE. She will be fine. I will be fine. It will be more expensive than free, but I’m fairly confident we can work it into the budget.
Anyway. My insurance covers 6 visits with the lactation consultant, and even though I feel pretty confident in that area now, I actually like her as a person and I did want her to check out Molly’s new, nipple-shield-free latch (YES! After 3 months, I finally got her off of the damn shield!!). During her visit, I mentioned my decreasing milk issue. She convinced me to rent her hospital-grade pump for the week, just to see if it made a difference.
Oh. My. God.
I used the pump in the hospital when she was born, but it was NOTHING like this beast. It feels like my boobs are being ripped off my chest, nipple first. I hope that sounds painful. It is SO painful.Oh, and the best part? I practically have it on the lowest setting. Every time I use it I’m reminded of that scene in The Princess Bride (and honestly, if you’ve never seen that movie, I don’t think we can be friends. I could literally recite it line by line) when Prince Humperdinck jacks up the pain wheel on the life-sucking torture device and Count Rogen screams, “NOT TO 50!” That’s what it feels like. I can’t imagine pumping on full power. I’d probably need Miracle Max to revive me.
I guess I’m getting more milk. The verdict’s still out on whether I’m getting more volume, or if I’m just getting it faster. I definitely feel more deflated than ever before when I’m done, so I guess it’s working. I’ve gone from 9.5/10 ounces average to a good 11/12 (plus I add on a torture pump session every night to have a little extra).
Also on the advice of my lactation consultant, I ordered Mother’s Milk Special Blend in liquid form. The reviews say it “tastes like death” and I should just “hold my nose and chug it in a glass of OJ.” GREAT! Can’t wait. Remind me again who describes breastfeeding as blissful?
I woke up Sunday morning more engorged than I’ve been in weeks, and I think I know why. Saturday night I went to a party and had a couple beers. So apparently I need to drink more (beer, at least).
What else, what else? We’ve got our big pumpkin patch visit planned for next weekend. Like so many others, I’ve been dreaming of taking my child to the pumpkin patch for what feels like forever. I go every year with my little brother and sister, and I try not to feel bitter and wistful (but I do). Last year I was newly pregnant and terrified. This year I’ll have my daughter in tow. It’s surreal. I cannot wait.
Molly is doing wonderfully. She’s just now starting to need more stimulation and shows signs of boredom when she’s just left to sit around (which isn’t too often). She loves her kicky chair, especially when it lights up and plays music. She is starting to sort of hold her toys and realize she’s holding them. I wouldn’t say she “plays with toys,” but the other morning I walked in and caught her staring at Sophie while gripping tightly to her long giraffe neck.
She has rolled over a few times now, and her neck strength is impressive. One thing she’s good at is stiffening her body from head to toe. Usually she does this when she’s annoyed, but sometimes she just does it… as Eric says, she’ll be good at planking one day.
She really loves being at Aunt Ashley’s house, I can tell. She loooooves her cousin Addi (3), and is a bit fearful of but still appreciates her cousin Avery (18 months). Of course she loves Aunt Ashley, who mollycoddles her (HA!) just as much or perhaps more than mommy does. Sometimes I get jealous of all the time she gets to spend with her, but mostly I just feel relieved knowing that she’s being showered with attention for every moment of the day.
And that’s what’s going on with us.