Mother's Milk

I have posted before about how much I enjoy breastfeeding, but I need to post about it again, because this week brought about a classic case of not knowing what you have until it is taken away.

Due to one of the greatest modern inventions of the 20th century - the electric breast pump - going back to work full-time no longer necessitates the end of breastfeeding. I have spent this past week at work taking a break every two-and-a-half hours to pump milk, taking it home at the end of the day and bottling it for Matthew the next day.

That is, until Wednesday night, when something tragic put an end to my udder bliss. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say I am now of the belief that latex and lube should always be sold in bundles.

Thursday morning I made an important stop at the pharmacy for the so-called "morning-after pill", to put an urgent stop to the immediate expansion of Matthew's family tree. I inquired with the pharmacist whether it was safe to take while breastfeeding. As the line of people behind me grew ever longer, he explained to me that even though the drug doesn't indicate a warning, it includes a strong dose of estrogen and I should probably consult my gynocologist on the matter. One hesitant phone call later and my doctor's nurse directed that I should probably "pump and toss" for the next couple of days. Stubbornly refusing to accept defeat, I put in a second call to Matthew's pediatrician, who indeed confirmed that the drug would not be safe for my baby boy.

I was heartbroken. As if it weren't enough that we were already in the midst of our first week apart from each other. The dreaded guilt of a working mom was immediately compounded. The morning and evening feedings had just become our own special time to literally reconnect! My first visit to his daycare center was during my lunch hour and specifically designed to include breastfeeding; to remind him that I was still close by and would never abandon him. Now, because of our birth control FAIL, my little handsome man would be getting nothing but a bottle until this forty-dollar drug could work its magic. And even THAT was only going to happen on a prayer.

I swallowed my pride and followed both doctors' orders, and Matthew has been happily accepting the bottle at every feeding, getting everything he needs. I try not to pout about that, and am happy that my baby is adjusting well to the new routine. Obviously the separation anxiety is mostly mine to bear, and I am doing fine in all honesty. Although I must admit, I would much rather be walking him to the park, doing tummy time on my bed, or putting him down for a nap at any given point during my work day. The closeness I experienced with him is now reduced to 10-minute pumping sessions in the breakroom, as I gaze at his newborn photo and massage out every last drop of elixer gold.

It's been nearly 48 hours since I took the second dose per the directions, and I am giddy with excitement to breastfeed him this evening. All of the pumping I've been doing this week (and especially the last couple days) has trained my breasts to fill more completely and frequently every few hours, and I am more confident than ever that he will be able to enjoy breastmilk only for the next many weeks, if not months. My goal is to continue breastfeeding until he is at least 6 months old, but now that I've experienced what it's like not to do it, I may end up going longer. Yes, it is a sacrifice, as I can't drink as often as others and there is some public awkwardness occasionally. But I don't know how so many mothers can voluntarily go without having this experience. For the closeness I experience with my baby, especially in this time of separation, right now I wouldn't give up breastfeeding for anything.

Two Months

Dear Matthew,

Tomorrow you turn two months old, and I have to say that the time since you were born has been the happiest of my life. Every day I take so much joy in feeding you at my breast, taking you on walks to the park, watching you sleep in the rear view mirror and sharing you with my closest friends and family. Right now you are changing by the day, having already grown to 24 inches and about 12 pounds, and your dad and I are so glad that you are healthy and on your way to becoming a very strong little boy.

I realized yesterday that I am the only one who could have brought you into this world, and that you are the only boy I was meant to have as my first son. That makes us very specially intended for each other, and I intend to raise you to be a wonderfully loved human being. I will always be here for you and always ensure you have what you need.

This week marks the last full week I will enjoy with you before I must return to work full time, and the reality of this started to really hit me a few days ago. I played a couple of shows with my old band over the weekend and I had no idea how hard it would be to leave you just for a few hours those evenings, even when you would be in the best of hands. An hour or so before I was ready to leave on Friday night I found myself in tears, and realized that it was more than just the evening that would see us apart - it was the months ahead of us. It didn't matter that you would be in an excellent day care two days per week and with your dad and grandpa the remainder; it only mattered that you would not be with me. After having you live inside my body for ten months and rely on it for food ever since, thinking about being apart from you for any length of time is like considering leaving the house without my legs.

This morning you were very fussy, having woken up earlier than usual and receiving a bottle instead of a breast as we prepare you for the increased bottle feedings ahead of you. We put you right back to bed after eating. As I made my own breakfast in the kitchen, you were unrelenting in your crib, and I tried to let you cry yourself to sleep but it wasn't working. I finally changed your diaper and let you sit with me a while in the kitchen, but you continued to show me how tired you were. I couldn't put you back to sleep, so as soon as I had milk to offer, we sat down in the nursery for some breastfeeding. But you didn't reach for the breast. You just laid in front of me and locked eyes with me. I looked back at you and asked if you had just wanted to be close to mommy. Then you smiled at me. Your smile has been showing up every day and it is every bit as wonderful as I had hoped.


Seeing you so content to simply sit with me and have it soothe you so completely caused the crying to stop for you but begin in me. My tears welled up and you watched them fill my eyes. You began to suckle but continued to stare at me, and I wondered what you were thinking as I cried. Did you know I was crying just as you had been, minutes before? Did you feel how much of my crying was happiness for the amount of love I feel for you? Or was I potentially making you upset all over again? I will never know what you were thinking as you watched me cry, but you seemed to be taking it in, and I think you get your keen perception from your father.

But then you amazed me even more. I stroked your head and held you close to me, trying to control my tears, and told you once more that I love you, as I tell you countless times every day. Without lifting your mouth from the boobie sandwich, you looked at me and told me you loved me too. Except it sounded more like "muoah-mlah-wha-muoah." My crying became laughter and the tears flowed even more. Your precious innocence makes me cry like nothing else. It was a moment I cannot adequately describe here, that you and I will share in my memory always.

We have so much to look forward to, Matthew. This is only the beginning.

Love,
Mom

Redefining Love

How can I put into words the things I love the most about my son? Does "everything" sum it up? Every day with him is a remarkable new discovery. Every time I breastfeed him I am overcome with love for that look in his eyes. Holding him as I walk from the car to the house, usually soothing him with words like, "I know" or "I'm gonna feed you right now," I hold his tiny head in my hands and can't stop kissing it. Walking into his room in the middle of the night and unwrapping his swaddled blanket so that I can pick up his tiny frame and kiss his cheek on the way to the changing table is one of my favorite rituals. Laughing at his burps, his farts, the way he grunts and twists as he pushes out his poop - these are things only a mother could love. And I do. I relish them all; every ounce of his 11.1 pounds.

His daddy is just as crazy about him. He comes home from work and after giving me a big kiss and hug, always asks, "Where's the little guy?" and wants to check on him if he is sleeping. When he leaves in the morning, he always tells Matthew: "Be good for your mommy!" (and he always is.) He looks forward to giving Matthew a bottle in the evening, which has included a formula supplement lately, and putting him down to bed. His dad has been happy to be in his life, and for that I am most grateful.

The bonus is that I am happy to have his daddy in MY life. Throughout my pregnancy I kept him at a distance and thought I could do this on my own if I needed to. But from the moment I got home from the hospital he has been my partner and supporter in every imaginable way - from feeding my cat and cleaning his litterbox to taking out my garbage and picking up groceries. The emotional support and his physical presence has been the most comforting aspect to me, even beyond the household help. The other day I was fighting the routine due to lack of sleep and I became overcome with emotions, and he rushed home from work to hold me and remind me that I am "doing an awesome job." He then ordered me to go to bed or go do something for myself for a few hours. I opted to spend time with him. He, in turn, said he was going to be in charge of the baby until midnight. Then he made me dinner and tucked me in at 8:30 PM. I slept so soundly until just after midnight, when Matthew awakened and I was more than happy to feed him myself. I felt so rested already - just those 3.5 hours of solid sleep truly did make all the difference, and the fact that he had ordered me to do it made me feel like someone was protecting and nurturing me just as I nurture our son every day. Could I do this all myself? I would guess, maybe. But I am thankful beyond all measure that I instead have him at my side, on this incredible journey with me.

We share love, emotional support, and a common interest in giving our son the best possible life. By that definition, we are family.