And baby makes four . . .or five
November 17, 2013
For many women being pregnant with her second child is a wonderful occasion while for others it is a time of inner conflict. Yes, she wants this new baby but how could she possibly love anyone as much as she loves the little person here. Will the first child be abandoned? How will she stretch herself anymore than she already is? How can she create equality within her family?
It is important to realize that the learning curve with the first child is incredibly steep. When you are already in the role of parent bringing a new baby home is not as frightening.
Remember this baby is born into a family unit. We do not mother each child separately. Yes, we have different relationships with each child but we can never divide ourselves equally. There are times when one child requires more time and focus. Yes, they will fight for attention. The mothers I have spoken with who feel that they do not abandon one child for the sake of another seemed to have similar attitudes: “We are a family, a unit.” One mom who refers to her family as “The 12th Street Gang.” I love this.
You know the Sister Sledge song “We are Family?” “I got all my sisters and me”
My mother loved The Prophet by Khalil Gibran. I picked it up recently and it made me realize how much his words spoke to her.
On children he wrote:
Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life’s
longing for itself.
They come through you but not from
You,
And though they are with you yet they
Belong not to you.
Children are individuals but they do not exist alone. We are here to guide and love them. They will model what they see. Let them play well with others and work through natural conflicts?
My freshman year of college I had an acting teacher who asked me which of my siblings I loved best. Without missing a beat my reply was, “I love them equally but differently.” That was my Mama’s work! She created that.
(My siblings and me)
It is helpful to have strategies to be able to mother more than one child at a time.
Here are some ideas that can help:
~ wear the baby – get a sling, wrap or other carrier to keep the baby close and keep your hands free
~ include the older child in caring for his sibling, do not force it, rather give him the opportunity to help, keep diapers and baby’s clothes within reach of him so he can get these things
~ do not overindulge either of the children
~ ask open ended questions and really listen to him
~ acknowledge his feelings
~ let go of things – dust, material objects
~ ask for help with the house and food – when people ask what you need tell them you need food and a clean house
You can never create true equality! Ask anyone with siblings – they will tell you stories. Go easy on yourself.
By keeping your family together the older child sees how he was cared for. By separating the two you teach them that you cannot love them together – that each child is just one unit, creating more competition. By including the new baby you are modeling love, acceptance and patience.
Breastfeeding and Your New Baby
November 3, 2013
There are many things that can make or break the transition into breastfeeding. Breastfeeding in the beginning is time consuming and that is good. It is good because it creates the opportunity for mom to rest and heal from birth. It is also a time to study your baby. It is time to get to know each other.
With this in mind there are a few things you can plan.
Create nursing stations in your home.
While still pregnant, notice where you like to spend time in your home. Many new parents build a beautiful nursery but you do not have to stay there for every feeding.
Your baby does not care what the room looks like. Your baby expects to be close to mom and to have her milk available.
Your nursing station can include:
~water for you to drink
~snacks for you
~a cloth diaper for spit ups
~diapers and wipes
~phone
~book
~TV remote control
Nursing stations can be in:
~living room
~bedroom
~nursery
~den
Accept help!
For some of us it is hard to give direction. People want to help. They appreciate the guidance. They cannot read your mind as you sit there thinking “I sure am thirsty, I wish someone would bring me a glass of water” or “I cannot stand to look at that dust bunny another minute, I wish someone would clean it up.” Tell the people what you need and what you want.
When people ask what you need for your new baby tell them you need his food source fed – that is you! Have them make a meal.
Limit your visitors to those who will help you. This is a special time and you want to be able to be yourself and be comfortable. You have a new member of the family and this little pod needs to bond and sort out their new roles as moms, dads, siblings.
Take a breastfeeding class. A good class will give you the basics on what it looks like to nurse, on how to know that your baby is or is not getting enough and when and where to look for help.
Avoid early supplementing, unless medically indicated. If you need to supplement the best food for your baby is your milk. In the first couple of days you have a thick, nutritiously dense milk called colostrum.
This is the perfect food for your baby. You can literally express some onto a spoon in these first days and spoon feed your baby. If it is medically indicated to supplement then you need to use a rental grade pump. Many moms buy pumps but they are not all created equal.
Find your community.
These days there are so many resources for new parents. Be sure and find one where you can meet other parents face-to-face.
~You can attend a La Leche League Meeting
~Find your local community center with parenting groups
~Find your local on-line community
Know where to find help.
A few good resources:
http://www.breastfeedingmadesimple.com/
Breasts – Taking Away the Mystery
October 17, 2013
Breasts are the great, mysterious glands that fascinate and confound us. They are used to sell cars and beer and they are used to feed babies. They can be used to lure lovers. They are mysterious because we idolize them but we know very little about them.
I remember talking with a woman who told me in medical school they were studying cadavers. She said they took a scrotum and dissected it this way and that way. When it came to the female body the breast was lopped off and they never looked at it.
Several years ago I was at the Bodies Exhibit at the South Street Seaport in lower Manhattan. I had my oldest child with me, she was ten years old at the time, and I had my son who was a few months old.
I noticed that the exhibit of the female body showed a breast that was perfectly round. Since I see breasts almost daily in my work as a lactation consultant I knew that breasts are not perfectly round. At the end of the exhibit there was the opportunity to ask questions.
“Was there an aesthetic point of view in making the breast perfectly round?” I inquired. My ten-year-old rolled her eyes (Oh no, there goes mom again talking about breasts to perfect strangers, let me crawl away now.)
“Why don’t you ask him? He knows everything,” responded a woman as she pointed at a studious looking man in a white lab coat.
“Hi, there! Do you know why the breast was carved to look perfectly round?” I asked. The ten-year-old turned beet red.
Mr. Studious pushed his gold wire rimmed glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and said:
“Breasts are round.”
“Yes, I understand but mammary tissue is not perfectly round, it goes up into the arm pit.” I moved my hand across my breast and up into my armpit. My baby drooled and his eyes followed my hands.
“Breasts are round,” insisted Studious.
“Well, they may look round in a bra but they are much more than just round.”
Studious huffed and said, “Would you like me to get out the anatomy book?”
“Yes, please!” I was delighted. “Look up Tail of Spence.”
Studious scanned the book ready to make me a fool and then he slowed down, his face fell as he read. He looked up, pushed those glasses back and said, “You are right.”
“I know! I am a Lactation Consultant!” I was beaming. The ten-year old was beginning to show a bit of respect, pride even, and the baby was beginning to pull at my sweater to get some milk.
I am always talking about breasts and in various conversations it has occurred to me that most people do not know what breasts are like except for the few that they have encountered whether it is their own or a lovers or a quick glimpse in the locker room.
So I wanted to share a little to take the mystery out. You mystery is scary. That means that breasts can be scary, like the unknown, the dark, a new school. All of these unknowns are scary. Let me demystify the breast!
Breasts come in all shapes and sizes. They have a nipple and areola, which also come in all shapes and sizes and many various colors ranging from light pink to dark brown. Some breasts have a little bit of hair on them and some have a lot of hair.
Some breasts have big nipples, some have small nipples some have inverted nipples.
In current culture breasts that are used to sell bear and cars in advertising actually look like breasts that are engorged with milk. Breasts that are engorged with milk are big, round and heavy and are quite uncomfortable.
Most women have some variation in the size and shape of her breasts. Some women have two different sized breasts.
At birth some babies will have milk in their breasts, some call it “Witches milk.” Some babies will even get engorged. This is rare but it happens.
Some people have extra nipples. During lactation sometimes these nipples will drip milk. Some women get engorged in their armpits – this is the Tail of Spence! It is a sort of milk line that goes up into the armpit.
Breasts are perky when they are young and smallish. Many breasts are sloping.
Breasts will sag with age whether or not you have a baby or whether or not you breastfed. Bras contribute more to sagging than lifting. As we age everything kind of moves a bit south.
Three O’clock
October 1, 2013
We were invited to meet the new baby. I knew she was not breastfeeding. It was a decision made long before the birth. She had sent me a card of congratulations when I passed the boards to become a Lactation Consultant.
Having recently experienced a miscarriage in my second trimester I was excited to cuddle a new baby.
Stephanie and Drew looked relatively relaxed in their roles as new parents.
Bobby was about five weeks old.
“Do you want to feed the baby?” Stephanie asked. “I will warm up the bottle.”
I was nearly salivating waiting to cuddle this new little person. In my arms he felt warm. My breasts tingled. Thank goodness I was nursing Chloe, my toddler, or the milk would have flowed with nowhere to go those weeks earlier.
Bobby began to stir. Did he smell my milk?
“I think he is getting hungry.”
“It’s not three o’clock yet.”
The look on my face read confusion.
“We feed every three hours.”
“What if he is hungry before then?”
“The doctor says every three hours.”
Bobby squirmed in my arms. He turned toward my breasts. His mouth opened, he licked my shirt.
“He is really hungry,” I said. “It is 2:45. What difference does fifteen minutes make?” I pleaded.
Bobby began to wail. My heart raced.
They kept talking like nothing was happening. Drew laughed.
“Don’t let Leigh Anne leave the room with the baby. She will certainly latch him on.”
A chorus of laughter couldn’t drown out Bobby’s cries.
Bobby was gnawing on his hands. The wee baby was desperate. He wanted to be fed and there was nothing I could do. Everyone was laughing at my pain. Or were they laughing at Bobby’s pain?
I looked into his blues eyes. I wanted to tell him I was sorry.
“Come on. He is hungry.”
I am sorry Bobby. I would feed you if I could. He looked up at me crying, tears falling. And then he stopped. Like a switch went off. His expression went blank. All emotion disappeared and he looked through me. I had betrayed him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. It was 2:53. I stopped myself from crying.
Seven minutes later Stephanie walked over and handed a warm bottle to me.
“Want to feed him?”
“No, thank you.”
Leigh Anne’s DIY Adventure
August 4, 2013
Rob is a handy man – not professionally, just actually. He repairs all kinds of things that most people would call a professional handyman for. He has built book shelves from scratch, he built a loft in the kids room and turned a good size bedroom into two rooms and recently he put a new ceiling in our bathroom.
There are two things that Rob does not like to do at all – they are laundry and painting. He will call a professional painter any day. He can paint prep, he can put blue tape in all the right places he can move furniture and remove light face plates but please do not give this man a paint brush or any laundry detergent.
We have needed to have our bathroom painted for quite some time. The walls are peeling and in an attempt to create a spa like atmosphere and more importantly to cover the peeling paint Rob put in this ceiling with the idea that we, er, someone would paint. The ceiling was done in June. We looked at paint chips in May.
Finally on a trip to Home Depot Rob picked up the paint and primer and all the tools. Today is Sunday and sunny, what Rob would call a beach day. He had me remove all the items from the bathroom so he could scrape and could I please put on the primer. Of course I could, why not paint and get it over with? I pondered.
Well, I really need to go to the beach. So, I, having been carved up pretty nicely in the past eight years with various skin cancers so not needing a day in the sun, offered to do the job myself.
Yes, me, please do not laugh. I am not some much of a DIY girl unless you are talking about watching those DIY shows on cable TV. I love watching those rooms transform. I used to wish the Queer Eye guys would do a special for a straight girl or that Stacy and Clinton would redo my wardrobe or that I could Trade Spaces with someone.
Well, conjuring up Mr. Miyagi, I decided to wax on and wax off. What I didn’t count on was how tight the corners are in a NYC bathroom or how watery paint can be and splash allover the place. It is a good thing we have throw cloth that Rob threw in my direction as he and Finn headed east with shovels, buckets and swim trunks!
This process reminded me of parenting. There were times when I wanted to quit. I wanted to throw myself onto the throw cloth and throw a tantrum but there was no one there to help me or feel sorry for me. I just had to muddle through and do the best I could. That is how you help children sometimes. They have to work it out.
I got to listen to music really loud. I plugged my iPod into the stereo and just blasted music. I heard, Joan Baez, The Who, Martha Wainright, Simon Townshend, The Strokes, One Direction, Eels, Glen Hansard, The Vaccines, and on and on. I love just listening to music without someone changing the songs or complaining.
Well, as I sit here covered in Lunar Tide and Irish Moss, I feel a sense of pride in having contributed to the beautification of our home. Now I hope my friend Julia tells me where all the women are meeting for drinks tonight!
How Finn Saved Me
July 25, 2013
I had a dream last night where it I was holding onto a colorful umbrella and it was incredibly windy. I was about to be lifted into the sky and taken a way. Just as my feet were leaving the ground my eight-year-old son, Finn, grabbed my hand and said, “kiss me.” I saw his little pursed lips and that kiss saved me. His kiss kept me from being lost forever.
This is not the first time Finn has saved me.
I believe he saved me nearly nine years ago. Finn was conceived the week my mother died. Mama and I were very close. Her death was a tragedy. She died of lung cancer less than five months after her diagnosis. The last time I saw her I should have known it would be the last but Mama was never good at good-byes. It was October and she said she would see me for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I should have known when she had me return a sweater to J. Jill that was just her style. I should have known when she gave me a floppy disc with her writing on it – she never shared her writing until she was ready. I should have known when her face looked gray and ashen as she slept on Daddy’s recliner. But we both pretended we would see each other again soon.
When Daddy called to tell me Mama had died I screamed and fell to the floor. I felt a huge hole in my chest. It was a physical pain as much as it was an emotional pain. That pain lingered for months and sometimes echoes through my body at trigger moments.
A few weeks after her death I discovered I was pregnant. It was bittersweet. How could I have another baby without my Mama and after two miscarriages? How could I take another loss so soon?
Not everyone loves being pregnant but I sure do. I am not one to get morning sickness. I love growing a little human inside of me. I always dream about my babies. Growing Finn gave me a focus away from my grief. Sometimes my joy and grief intertwined and I did not know I how I felt.
When Finn was born I noticed his blue eyes right away. Mama had blue eyes. Neither Rob, nor our daughters nor I have blue eyes. I wondered if they would stay blue. They have.
Along the way Finn has guided me in many ways. He was terrible at nursing in the beginning so I learned the reasons why so many women want to stop nursing. I learned how to latch better. I learned about pumping and hand expressing. I learned to be a better Lactation Consultant.
He has informed my mothering. One morning when he was about two and I tried against all odds to get the children out the door to school on time I lost my temper and yelled at he kids. Finn stopped and with big alligator tears he told me, “You have to be patient.”
I don’t know what happens when we die but Finn used to talk about where he was before he came into my belly. I like to pretend that Finn is Mama all over again. Finn loves me unconditionally the way Mama did. He tells me the truth and keeps me in line the way Mama did. Finn does not replace Mama but he fills a gap and has eased that pain in my chest.
Life and death are full of mysteries. These days many mysteries can be proven or disproven by science. There are some aspects of life I like to keep mysterious: love, dreams, the afterlife.
I will keep trying to listen, be patient and not fly away to soon.
Orientation, Stop & Shop and ABBA
July 16, 2013
This morning I woke early after a fitful sleep. I readied myself to drive Phoebe, my firstborn baby to orientation at SUNY-New Paltz, where she will be a freshman in a few weeks. I was a bit angry with her for some immature behavior the night before and gave her a speech about it. Then we talked about what was going on at the camp where she is a counselor for the summer, we talked about her various friends and we listened to music.
This is an exciting time of life, a big transition. People ask me how do I deal with this? It is like dealing with Phoebe’s first birthday, her first day of school, her first dance. You grow into these things. They are bittersweet. Each of those events left me feeling a mix of pride and a bit of melancholy.
Today was not the day for me to be emotional. I am planning that for next month when we drive her to school to begin freshman year. When Mama and Daddy dropped me off at UNC-Greensboro in August of 1983 I sat in my half empty dorm room and cried for two hours. Mama cried all the way home from Greensboro to Fayetteville.
When Phoebe and I pulled into the parking lot she spied her friend Dylan with her mom and one of her sisters. I smiled. I was happy Phoebe had a buddy there. We parked and went to greet the family and I could barely speak. I muttered, “ I feel emotional.”
We got Phoebe settled with her orientation leader, we walked around the campus for a few minutes in the oppressive heat and we talked. I started to tear up again. Phoebe can tell. I can’t get words out. She tickled me. I think it was her way of not getting herself worked up.
It was time for me to leave as she had some orienting to get to. I got into the car and I called Rob. “All is well,” I told him, “I am going to fill the car with gas and be home in a couple of hours.”
“Can you stop at the grocery store while you have the car and get a couple of things?” he asked me. “Sure.”
I knew there was a good grocery store on the way to the Thruway. I walked into the Stop & Shop. I only needed to get some juice boxes for Finn’s camp and some salad for tonight’s dinner but I was in a very large grocery store. I pulled out a large shopping cart. I walked the aisles. I felt lost and alone and I thought about my mother. Then I thought about my grumbling belly and my small bladder. I also thought about the fact that whatever I bought I would have to carry from the garage into the house. I found a bathroom and some fresh fruit and some Glutino chocolate covered pretzels and the juice boxes and vegetables.
I drove a bit down the road and filled ‘er up with gas and merged onto the Thruway after cruising under the EZPass sign.
I had my iPhone connected to the sound system and I turned on the music. My music collection is a mix of pop and rock from the 70’s until now. If anyone knows me well they know I love to sing but I should only sing alone or with people who really love me or who are under the influence of mind-altering substances.
One of my favorite memories of college is driving in my little cream colored VW beatle, that I named Henry, between Greensboro and Fayetteville singing at the tops of my lungs. I had a cassette player and I would sing Lou Reed and Tears for Fears and Stevie Nicks for my ears only. I was so happy. And sometimes I would let an entire album loop through the two-hour drive. I remember trying to rewind to just the right spot to re-sing a song.
Things are different now. With the flick of a finger you can listen to exactly what you want, but being the old-fashioned girl that I am, I like to just listen to my songs on shuffle.
So, I am driving south on the New York Thruway earlier today and the ABBA song Chiquitita comes on and I don’t know why but I start to sing but instead I am balling my eyes out. Every time I try to sing I just cry harder and harder and then she sings: “What’s wrong? How I hate to see you like this. I can see that you are so sad and quiet.” I just sob and sob and make sure my eyes stay as clear as possible so that I can see the road.
And I think of Mama driving back and forth to see me at school. I think about being young and I think about growing older and how fleeting life is and I cry some more.
I don’t feel old. I think it is like the first day of school and I was fretting about how my Phoebe would fare. I think about how hard it was for Mama to let me go. And, I think about how much she wishes she was here. She was so mad that she was dying and was going to miss out on the party here. I think I cried because I couldn’t call her and talk about our shared experiences of letting go of our grown daughters, of mothering.
I will let you know how I do when I really have to let her go next month.
Mother Anger
July 1, 2013
We openly talk about being angry at our teenagers, our mothers and our partners but how many of us openly admit to being angry at our babies?
I recall late on night, or was it early one morning? This was in the summer of 1995. New to parenthood, Rob and I were trying to figure out how to integrate a new baby into our lives. Phoebe kept waking and crying. We were still at that point of reading books and not our baby.
The newborn cries impaled my body and I understood the story that my mother repeated often about the eighteen-hour drive up I95 from North Carolina to Massachusetts when I was a six-weeks old. She described a constant bloodcurdling cry and openly said she wanted to throw me out the window. I now knew that feeling, that longing to dispose of ones precious newborn.
Just as I was trying to figure out how to quit my job as Phoebe’s mom, Rob threw the sheets off himself and I thought he was going to hurdle her into the neighbor’s house. I immediately shifted gears into protective mama bear. I scooped Phoebe into my arms and put her to my breast for the millionth time that day and I wept.
How could I be so angry at my sweet baby girl? Didn’t I love her? Hadn’t I signed onto this job? Did I really want to give her back?
A few days later I attended at La Leche League Meeting. Lucta, the Leader, was a transplant from South Carolina. I loved listening to her deep drawl. I loved how everything that flowed from her mouth was like reading a Fannie Flagg novel. She was funny, self-deprecating, maudlin and full of wisdom.
A mother of five, Lucta spoke of how her vanity saved her first born child. When she wanted to hit him or throw him out of the window she would walk outside onto the sidewalk and hold him out for all to see.
“Ah was vain. I would never do somethin’ regretful in front of anyone,” she proclaimed. “Mah vanity saved that poor child.”
And then she said it, out loud. “Ah was angry.”
The guilt I had about my feelings of anger at Phoebe began to fade with her words. Then she said it was normal to mourn your old life. Normal. I was normal.
I have learned to respect those words in my life.
Grief is real and it is a process. Once you have a baby, one chapter of your life is closed, forever. No matter how much you love motherhood you have lost the innocence of childlessness.
One brave mother brought it up at my support group the other day. She said out loud that she gets angry at her adorable baby. Relief permeated the room. Acknowledgement that it is normal to have all different feelings as a new parent is priceless.
It is taboo to talk about anger towards a baby. New parents suppress these feelings because we romanticize babies and new parenthood.
Parenthood is wonderful – some of the time. Parenthood is challenging – some of the time. As long as you do not actually throw your baby out the window or into the neighbors yard you are pretty normal.
One game I have played with myself when I am either out with my three children or if I am feeling on the edge of losing my mother cool is, I pretend I am the subject of a documentary. I pretend that I am being filmed and I want to set a good example. Silly? Yes, but this little game has gotten me through hard moments in my mothering.
Love your baby. Remember, you have a relationship with this little person. Do you ever get angry at your best friend or your spouse? And so you ever just have the best time ever with these people? It is the same with your child.
And, if you ever feel like you want to act on your anger let your vanity step in. Go out and stand on the sidewalk with your baby.
A Reunion
June 20, 2013
I am heading to my high school reunion this weekend. It has been thirty years. It is amazing how fast it has come. It is equally amazing to see how much has occurred in my life in this thirty years. This is me then.
I went to school for four years in Greensboro.
Then with some kind of bravery or foolishness or both I moved to New York City. I was going to try it for a year. I got hooked. I almost left after a drab summer and dark winter but I fell in love with my neighbor a week before boarding a plane to Los Angeles. I think I am more of an East Coaster anyway.
Besides, that neighbor is my husband of twenty years
and the father of our three amazing children.
It has been both wonderful and humbling to share parenting with him. We have a good life. We live in tight quarters in Manhattan but we like it this way.
In my years in New York I have performed in theatres, in stand-up comedy venues. I have worked in law firms and department stores. I have worked as a location scout. I have been a personal assistant to a wealthy woman.
When I became a mother I decided to become a La Leche League Leader, a volunteer breastfeeding support counselor. Then I went pro!
I now have a thriving Private Practice as a Lactation Consultant. That I get to empower mothers to use their bodies to nourish and grow their babies is inspiring everyday. And, from time to time I talk to the media about breastfeeding.
Going home to Fayetteville has become bittersweet. Mama died from lung cancer in 2004. I miss her but I also have her inside of me. She impacts most everything in my life.
When I do go home I get to be with my dad,
my sister and brother-in-law and my wonderful niece and three nephews.
And, I still have some solid friends at home. These friends are always there for me. Sometimes we go months or even years without talking but I know they are there.
I am excited to go to this reunion to see some old friends that maybe I have lost touch with. It will be a quick visit but it will be good to go and let my voice slow down a bit and let a drawl slide in. It will be good to sip some sweet tea.
See y’all in Fayetteville!
Pumps and Pumpi…
June 20, 2013
Pumps and Pumping
When I was pregnant with Phoebe is 1995 I took a birthing class and a breastfeeding class. In week six of the birthing class the teacher brought in a guest – a woman who rents breast pumps. The businesswoman made it clear that if a person was to be breastfeeding she would need a good quality pump.
Phoebe and I struggled for a few days but got the hang of nursing and all was well. The pediatricians were impressed with her weight gain and were nearly shocked I was exclusively breastfeeding. Looming in the back of my mind was that little voice of the woman “you need a breast pump, you need a breast pump.”
After about four weeks I found a local pharmacy that rented pumps and plopped down my $212.32 for a two-month rental with all of the supplies. I brought it home and it sat on the kitchen table. Rob came home that evening and saw the new appliance in the kitchen and said, I see you got the pump.
Day after day, Phoebe and I developed our routine. We both loved nursing and she grew so beautifully. Rob loved watching her nurse and saw how happy she was. When I thought she was nursing too much he is the one who pointed out how happy we both were at these moments.
About two weeks after I rent the contraption I realize I have spent this money and I had better use the thing. Phoebe lay asleep on the bed off the kitchen and I watched her I set up the machine and began to pump. It was fascinating to watch my milk flow out of my breasts into the bottles. After about ten or fifteen minutes I had collected about three quarters of an ounce. I placed it in the refrigerator so Rob could feed it to her in the next day or so. After all, shouldn’t I let him get involved in this parenting adventure. Why should I be the only one to bond with our little girl?
That night when Rob came through the door beaming as usual to see us at the end of the day. Just as he arrived home a thunderstorm rattled our little house. The lights flashed off and on and off. The electricity was out. My mind went directly to the fridge where my precious liquid gold sat on a wire shelf. Rob, the electricity! My milk! You must feed it to her now before it goes bad! I ran to the kitchen ran the bottle under hot water and handed it to Rob with a hungry wiggly Phoebe in his arms. She started to root on his chest. He placed the bottle in her mouth she looked in his trusted eyes as if to say: What the hell are you doing? I stared at them and my breasts began to tingle. They struggled, both looking betrayed.
Give me that bottle, I said. I unscrewed the nipple and pour the milk down the drain. Let me hold her. I latched her on and we all melted into the normal little family we knew. Is it okay if I don’t pump? I asked Rob. Of course, I never asked you to. I don’t need to feed her to feel connected.
The next day Phoebe and I drove to the pharmacy and returned the pump and she never had a bottle.
It is important to know that Phoebe and I were rarely separated in the first year of her life. Well, in her case we were rarely separated for the first few years of her life.
Chloe, my second baby also never had a bottle.
Finn, my third baby was born slightly early and had a severe tongue-tie and lost a full pound by his third day of life. On day six I rented a pump and for 24 hours I pumped my left breast and fed him the milk. In all, he had about three bottles. When he was about nine months old I left him for a few hours and left behind some milk. Rob said he through it across the room and he didn’t really need it.
That is my story about bottles and breast pumps.
Now I want to address the general population.
For many women a pump is an important tool to continue breastfeeding. Just as my story was unique to my situation, so it is for all moms. In 1995 there were not on-line mothers groups. The moms I met were face to face and the conversations about feedings were that – conversations, two- or three-way discussions. These days moms go to their on-line community and read posts. In many ways these forums are great but they can also be scary and mis-informative.
A recent trend I notice is that moms believe if they do not start pumping right away they will not get enough milk. Another trend is that it is important to have a freezer full of milk. All of this work puts so much pressure on new moms and takes away from the time spent face to face with her baby. It also throws off the balance of her milk supply.
Why do you need to pump?
There are different scenarios where a mom really should pump.
If a mom is directed by her doctor to supplement her baby then this mom should use a hospital grade pump to express her milk. This is so that she has a supplement for her baby and it also will help to establish her milk supply.
If a mom and baby are separated it is important for the mom to pump her milk to again establish her milk supply and/or prevent engorgement.
These days many women work outside of the home. In this case pumping her milk assures she has milk to feed her baby while they are apart. If the mom is one to three days ahead of her supply she can keep her milk in the refrigerator. There really is no need to have a freezer full of milk. The idea is to nurse your baby when you are with him and to pump when you are separated.
Some moms would like to have a stash of milk so that she can leave her baby in the care of someone else occasionally. In these situations it is truly fine to keep a bottle or two a week in the mix.
For some moms it truly is nearly impossible to pump while at work. Pumping at home after feedings is one way to save milk for this time. Other moms find they use either donor milk or formula as a supplement. If a mom is not 100% breastfeeding it does not mean she is not breastfeeding. There seems to be this idea that breastfeeding is an all or nothing proposition. It is not. When you are with your baby you nurse your baby.
Some moms like to include her partner or other family member with the feedings. Many moms find this helpful while others prefer help with other aspects of her mothering this new baby. A couple of things to keep in mind: be sure it does not complicate the feedings and not feeding a baby does not preclude bonding.
What kinds of pumps are there?
There are many pumps on the market. It seems everyone wants to get in the game. As a new parent it is important to watch out for marketing. New parents are one of the targeted markets.
Read reviews, real reviews, not just a couple of posts on forums. And watch for paid advertising. Not all pumps are created equal. Just because a pump costs more than others, it does not mean it works better or even as well.
If you need to pump in the early weeks it is important to rent a hospital grade pump.
If you have an established supply and you are working outside of the home on a regular basis you may need a rental pump or a good quality double electric pump.
Look at the size of the motor. Are you paying for technology? Or quality?
If you just need the occasional bottle often a smaller pump or a hand pump can work well. And do not forget your hand. Learning to hand express is a great gift. You do not need to rely on electricity or batteries. Hand expression is something all moms should know how to do.
Here is a quick tutorial:
You take the pads of your thumb and middle finger and place them just on the inner edge of your areola.
You put pressure as though you are going to touch your rib cage.
Then, imagine there is ink on your thumb – you roll your thumb towards your nipple as though you would make a thumbprint – not a smudge.
Repeat.
If you do not have milk flowing you can massage your breast toward the nipple.
You repeat until you have expressed enough milk for your particular needs of the moment.
The best place to practice is in the shower. Sometimes you will find a “sweet spot” where you get a nice continuous flow.
When should one pump?
If breastfeeding is going well there is no need to pump right away. Allow time for you and your baby master this art. Let your baby and your body flow into a nice equilibrium. You can wait several weeks to introduce a pump and expressed milk.
If there are hiccups in your situation pumping may be indicated.
When to pump varies from person to person. There is no one size fits all prescription. If you are not sure contact an International Board Certified Lactation Consultant (IBCLC) or a La Leche League Leader.
Infant feeding can be complicated or it can be smooth. It is important to find your way. Feel free to share it on your forums but please, please put a disclaimer that this is your unique experience.
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