Ending for the Third Time

I am finished with breastfeeding/ exclusively pumping. It was great. It was real. We did it. I'm glad we did and despite all of the trouble, there is no doubt in my mind that I would do it all over again. I love him that much. But it's really over. I finally got myself down to where I can quit pumping. Yesterday, I pumped twice and only produced 1 ounce total, on both sides, for the day. Yes, I'm really done this time. And to tell you how really done I am.....(Erm, I should say "finished", because the mix-up of finished/ done, as well as the exchange of good/well are just two of my pet peeves.)

So anyway, I was about to explain how finished I am.

I am so finished that I made a phone call to a local breastfeeding boutique tonight to see how I could go about selling my pump. The big MamaJamma. The Symphony. The one that retails for $2K. And at first the woman didn't really believe that I bought one. She said that most people who have brought them in have stolen them, that they only own one themselves and the rest of theirs that they rent out are actually leases from Medela, etc. I gave her the serial number and she called Medela and discovered that it was indeed sold to a buyer by the name of Andrea XXXXX, that it is available for resale. And she offered me $1K (and another $200 in merchandise was thrown in), which I thought was pretty damned good considering I have used it for the better part of a year. And with my employee discount at the hospital, I only ended up paying $1600. So if you do the math, it cost me $400 to use my own Rolls Royce of breastpumps for 8 months. And so I met her this afternoon and sold my pump.

I sold it.

John couldn't understand why I teared up as I was packing it up. Because he is a man and just doesn't get it. I did everything. I really did. And we had a good run, Zach and I. I remember when he stopped nursing altogether and I thought it was over. And then the pride I felt when he drank a full bottle of my milk and seemed to prefer it to formula. When Zach was about 4 months old, I dropped down to where I was getting 1/2 an ounce total output for both sides and I thought it was over. And I kept on. We have toured every nook and cranny of Cincinnati in order to find obscure herbs recommended online by sites advising on increasing milk supply: teas and tinctures and capsules. I remember the day John went to run errands and came back to find me completely topless with Zach in just a diaper in his Moby Wrap while I was doing the dishes. Desperate for time to do Kangaroo Care in between my crazy pumping schedule, this was the only way I could manage to do it. He really did think I had lost my mind at that point. But if it was supposed to increase supply, I was going to do it. I didn't care what it was.

I sold my pump.

I hated the damned thing. Waking me up every 2 hours. Sucking the life out of me in more ways than one. Making it so my life was consumed with pumping schedules and ounces produced and ways to get more, more, more. But I loved the thing. Because you cannot convince me that it would not have been over when Zach was just 2 months old if I hadn't bought it. And I am so connected to this baby, and I believe this is why. Because while my body wasn't tough enough to maintain him during the pregnancy, damnit I was strong enough to feed us both.

I sold it because I knew that I would always try to do better, try to do more. That so long as my body kept making mere drops of milk, I would try to make ounces. I had to close this chapter.

I sold my pump. This chapter is closed. I love you, Zachary.

Generalized Crap

Not much going on here except work, work, work, pump, work, nurse, pump, yell at Evan to do his homework, then repeat. I pretty much hate my new work schedule, even though it is what I asked for. After being off of work for over 5 months, thought I would need to get my chops back, and so I have tried to avoid signing up for several 12-hr. shifts in a row. Plus, with me waking every few hours to nurse a baby or pump, it makes it easier when there are days off in between. But.....I feel like I never have time off because the days don't come in stretches. That was, they didn't until this week. I am off until Friday night, with the exception of an 8-hour computer class on Wednesday for the new software the hospital is getting. Holy crap! So what's new?



Well, in my quest to turn myself into a one-woman dairy farm, I broke down and called our area La Leche League leader. She was wonderful, and we talked about what I could expect at the meetings and more. I gave her a brief synopsis of my breastfeeding woes and she advised me to start taking blessed thistle with my fenugreek. Ok. Done. I missed the month's meeting by 2 days, but found out they meet in my hospital! So I will be going to try it out for September's meeting. Yay! Maybe I'll meet others in the same boat.



Other than that, there is one more development. I've gone Bat-Shit Crazy! Yep, you read that correctly. As if I wasn't already an emotional minefield, I now have something new to add to the mix: I have started having nightmares. Crazy ones, too. And some that aren't terrible but just seem so....real. Yesterday I swore I woke up to the feeling of one of my progesterone injections. (This is where I admit that they hurt like HELL!) In my dream, Evan was the one giving me the shot instead of my RN, and I just kept thrashing, saying, "But I've already had my baby!" And when I awakened, I was crying. So yeah, I'm going to seek out somene to talk to. I'm starting with our hospital's EAP in the hopes that just a few sessions will be adequate, and in the event that it isn't, they can then refer me. I definitely want someone experienced in this sort of thing.


Other than this stuff, my days and nights blur together to where they are almost unrecognizable. I blame night shift. And my pump. I blame that too. It is the bane of my existence these days, especially since Iave realized that Ido not have the luxury of slacking off on this. My milk supply is too fragile. Very little increases it, but if I so much as skip one pumping or nursing session, it decreases. Unfair. But I have come to realize, with the help of Zach's weight gain and level on contentment, that each ounce of breastmilk I give him is a sort of gift. So for now, in light of all of the work it has taken, I am choosing to focus on the fact that I have been breastfeeding him for almost 4 months. One third of my goal of one year! Go Me!

On that note, I am going to pump! Ha!