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When I was pregnant with my first baby, I didn’t give the whole breast milk versus formula debate a lot of thought. I had really only been exposed to formula, but I figured breastfeeding was worth a try. After three excruciatingly painful months (that I don’t know how I got through), I loved it.
After nursing my first for 20 months, I just planned on doing the same with my second. I got to hold him and try to nurse him for less than an hour before he was taken to the special care nursery. I was wheeled to my recovery room and was brought a breast pump. Aside from the two times I tried with my first and didn’t get any milk, I had never used a breast pump. Little did I know it was about to become my best friend.
I pumped half-heartedly at first. Just two or three times the first day. It was annoying and only gave me a few millileters of colostrom. I was also in a bit of denial. Or just really niave. I never expected my son to be lifeflighted or to endure a 39-day NICU stay.
He was lifeflighted at less than two days old. That’s when it became real. That I would need to pump. I started to think it would be fine to just go to formula. It was extenuating circumstances. It would be easier. When my husband came back to my hospital from being with our son across the valley, he said the nurses had been asking about my milk. I realized that as helpless as I felt, I could pump.
It was one of the only things I could do for my baby for the next 5 weeks.
I started pumping on a schedule. I tracked how much I produced everyday and totaling my numbers each night became a highlight of my day. I started a freezer stockpile when the NICU told me they’d run out of room for my milk in their freezer.
For the first few weeks I just assumed I’d eventually breastfeed my baby and I would just have an awesome stash for when I needed to have him babysat. Breastfeeding was a struggle. He was little and tired easily. I used a nipple shield and tried a few times a day for a week before he aspirated. After lots of tests and medications, it was clear he would need a feeding tube long term. He couldn’t swallow thin liquids.
That was the end of my breastfeeding goals.
I started making pumping goals. I’d always wondered about moms who exclusively pumped. It seemed so crazy to me. Yet I became one of those moms. I was thrilled every time I added milk to the freezer. We even had to buy a giant deep freezer because our freezer wasn’t big enough. Life was busy and crazy and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep pumping for the full year and set a goal to provide enough breast milk for my son’s first six months.
I spent about 2.5 hours pumping everyday and produced between 40 and 50 ounces a day. It was overwhelming with two kids, one with a new g-tube. I was stressed from washing bottles and pump parts, getting up in the middle of the night, and entertaining two kids by myself 90% of the time.
But sometimes I really enjoyed pumping. It was an excuse to sit on the couch and watch a show on my phone and mentally check out for a while… as long as my husband was home or my kids were asleep. But still…
Sometimes my little guy would wake up when I was getting ready to pump before bed. I would drag his IV pole with his g-tube pump out to the recliner. He would curl up on the Boppy in my lap and sleep while I pumped. It was actually a special time for me. It was so awesome to have him close to me while I pumped. It made pumping a little more like breastfeeding. A little less cold.
I contemplated stopping nearly everyday. It was hard enough to leave the house with two kids and all the medical supplies let alone having to pump every two to three hours. But it was kind of a challenge for me.
Then one day my then two year old changed everything. I can’t even tell you exactly what he said. I just remember how I felt. My heart sank. He had been so patient through everything. All the times he was babysat. All the hours spent at various hospitals. All the things I couldn’t do because of my c-section or the baby or the pumping.
He wanted me to play with him. He wanted more time with me. That made it easy to decide to stop pumping.
Like I said, I knew the time would come when I would be done. I went as long as I felt I could and was at peace with my decision to stop. I had a giant deep freezer full of frozen milk. We’d been fortifying my milk with formula to add extra calories from day 1. Formula didn’t seem so bad. It was a blessing. It gave me the freedom to stop pumping when I was ready. To really be there for my kids. To balance each of their needs in our own personal way.
I had enough frozen milk to make it just past six months. It was kind of sad to me that by the time my baby started taking most of his milk orally, he was switching to formula. I wished he’d been able to enjoy more breast milk. But it’s hard to guess how much he’ll eat each feeding, especially when we have to thicken his milk. It was such a blessing that he was able to take breast milk through his feeding tube for the first several months. There was a lot less waste.
I kind of hate how insistent I used to be that everyone should breastfeed. My son has opened my world to how many crazy circumstances there are out there. It’s different for everyone. For me, the feeding tube wasn’t what stopped me. It was my toddler. My toddler needed me more than my baby needed breast milk for a year.
I missed pumping when I quit, but I also had so much more time. I felt guilty the first few times I had to use just formula for bottles, but I got over it. My baby is fed and growing. I’m proud of how long I pumped. And I’m proud I was able to quit when I needed to.
