Them B'reservoirs...

Namastè!

As I enter the tenth month of my breastfeeding journey with Baby Namastè, I feel compelled to share what it's been like. The good, the bad, and the WTF.

NOTE: I'm NOT an IBCLC. My experience is just that, mine. I don't shun formula moms, I just do what works for me personally. I'm not an MD, a self-proclaimed expert, or a titty guru. I'm just a mom who's figured out her own little rhythm to the nursing dance. Hopefully this disclaimer will spare me the know-so-much crowd who takes precious time from knowing so much to send me to task about my opinions and observations! I'm always ready to stand my ground but it'll take more than a 2-minute Google search to dress me down, so kindly save that "send email" click for something else.

Them B'reservoirs.

That's what we (Hubby Namastè and I) have dubbed the boobs. Breast reservoirs.

Even before Baby Namastè was born, I knew I'd be nursing him. I read every book I could find. I talked to IBCLCs. I drilled veteran moms. (Princess Namastè was tube fed for a good portion of her first year, so I didn't nurse her directly. I used a hospital pump, and she was fed via an NG tube until she could swallow.) I wanted the best, the worst, and the WTF about nursing, from people who had been in the trenches.

I studied latch. I studied nipple confusion. I studied all the diferent things that could affect, challenge, or even possibly curtail my endeavor. I was gung ho to make it to the one year mark, with a freezer stash at the ready for extending those benefits after he weaned. I would not even think of weaning before he himself was ready.

I was set, y'all.

It has not been easy. Initially I was tandem feeding--nursing Baby Namastè and providing milk for a very special little princess as well. (She was in the NICU.) It seemed like my milk came in overnight. From the very start I could pump many ounces even after feeding Baby Namastè on demand! That made me glad, because the only thing I wanted was to give both the babies a solid start, setting a good foundation for our nursing story.

In the first days it was rocky as hell. I knew how to nurse, or at least how to be patient and let Baby Namastè figure out the best way to eat while I figured out the best way to support him and make sure he felt safe and adored. I endured cracked nipples, engorgement, and letdowns so forceful I could (and still can, on a good day) shoot a stream of milk about three feet. I didn't slept much at first, because my baby literally nursed around the clock. He wanted his noms and as chuffed as I was to be nursing, I was beat. Beat, dehydrated, and sleepy. Baby Namastè had a lip tie, which made his latch a little harder to master. He also has an adorably tiny mouth.

I would have thrown out my flanges that first week, honestly. I was miserable. The babies were thriving, both Baby Namastè at home and Tiny Warrior Princess in the TICU, but I didn't feel like I was thriving. I felt like slow drain. Every ounce of milk was like another bit of me being poured away. Each time I went to feed or pump, the first few seconds during letdown were this crazy unhappy ride on a train I never wanted to ride. (That sounds so dramatic, but that's because at the time I didn't know I was suffering the effects of D-MER, dysphoric milk ejection reflex.) About 3 months in, my tandem journey ended. I was crushed. But I still had to stay the course for Baby Namastè.

As I kept going, I learned to make time for eating, drinking, and sleeping. I became another newborn, honestly. I ate, slept, nursed, and pumped. I got some insight about the D-MER, which saved my sanity.

As Baby Namastè's gotten older, the challenges have been different. I have never shied away from nursing in public, but people can be anything from downright nasty (gross guy on the subway in Manhattan) to absolutely inspiring (NOT gross guy who stood next to Hubby Namastè to make a human shield on the Staten Island Ferry!) where babies and b'reservoirs are involved. Even the most pragmatic, resolute mom would be slightly nervous about feeding in public for the first time. He didn't take a bottle initially, so I didn't have the luxury of just giving him one while we were out. I had to balls up and brass out quickly. I was up for the task, though. I believe fed is best, so I don't shame formula mommies. I expect the same while I whip out the b'reservoir to feed my own little hungry bear.

Around the four months mark, Hubby Namastè had a stretch of time where he was home a bit earlier. We were not worried about a nipple preference (it's not really confusion--the baby develops a preference for the bottle because that nipple flows more quickly and is less work!) by this time, but Baby Namastè hated every bottle we tried! He wouldn't take one from me at all. A few months later we found our Mimijumi and could not be happier. I never cared about being able to give him a bottle, but I did want him to have one he actually liked! Hubby Namastè has an even better bond with the baby, because he can literally care for him all day without needing me to step in for a feeding.

I learned another lesson after the bottle resolve, and that one was about the importance of taking care of me. I was eating well and sleeping more,  but aside from blogging I wasn't taking any time to do much for my spirits. I could take a Tayè Day and not feel guilty about Baby not having his milkies due to our ever-present fridge and freezer stash, and I could reconnect the dots and recharge. Ironically most of my Tayè Days involve  getting a quick hairstyle, then getting right back to my little bears.

When Baby Namastè was nine months old, I developed pneumonia. This in and of wasn't a major issue--but I spiked high fevers and could barely breathe. I was so sick, I had to break my no-meds preference. The meds I was given--antibiotics, pain killers, and anti-epilectics--rendered me a zombie. I was so weak, all I wanted to do was sleep. Everything hurt,  and between that and feeling like my head was on fire from those 103 temps, I had to limit my exposure to my baby. He had his freezer stash to lean on, but I was still pumping. I have never dumped milk--he got milk baths those days!

MY. SUPPLY. TANKED.

After the pneumonia cleared and I felt like a human again, I noticed he was cluster feeding. I assumed it was a growth spurt until I logged my pumped ounces and realized I was at less than half! My ineffective schedule those weeks, likely coupled with the meds, had compromised my supply in a big way. I panicked, as he only had about 250 ounces in his stash. That seems like a lot, but remember he's still almost totally EBF even at just shy of 10 months. I plan to go much longer, continuing with expressed milk when he no longer nurses directly. I needed that stash to stay put!

There's nothing more harrowing than a supply drop. I felt so bad, because this has been my thing for so long now. Yet when I thought it might end, it seemed like no time at all. At my lowest I went and spent 40 bucks on a can of formula.

Note: The low point WAS NOTTTTTTTTT the formula itself. It was the idea of not being able to make my breastfeeding goal. Remember,  I studied and read and researched for this! I was sad that I night not be able to carry out that goal.

There was almost something magical about that canister. It was the Enfamil Enspire, in a dark blue canister with gold. It's the formula touted to be closest to breastmilk.

The magic, you ask?

I didn't want to cave before I exhausted every avenue to get my supply back right. I didn't see the canister as failure at all. I saw it as motivation. I simply did not like the idea of taking Baby Namastè from his customized, just right, always-exactly-what's-needed food. So I did the needful. With that can as my motivation, I dove in and worked to restore my supply. No magic drinks or teas, just some time with my lactation consultant and a willing spirit.

All it took was to do like I'd always done--feed on eand, and kept a good pump schedule. While I got the chance to try some exciting (and at times very tasty) galactagogues,  the thing I am 100 percent sure of is this:

The more I pumped and nursed, the greater the demand for milk. The greater the demand, the greater the supply.

It took about a week or so to see the uptick, but it happened.

Now, on the cusp of our tenth month, I am happy. I am not doing anything special, as this is what our b'reservoirs are made for! Nor do I feel any superiority. (If I had needed that canister of formula so my baby could eat, I wouldn't have batted an eye about mixing it right on up!) I'm still feeding him on demand and pumping to build his stash. I may donate another 5K ounces before I hang up my flanges for good. I've given just over 10K ounces at present.

There's been a moment or five when I just wanted to quit and be completely done. Breastfeeding is seriously one part touching photos, three parts learning, and one part total WTF moments. When I look back on my leaky b'reservoirs days, my long nights trying to latch or cluster feeding, or those days where he went on strike, I still wouldn't change this choice. That tells me that I've done the right thing for him, and for me too. I stood on my principles. I didn't quit. I've never been perfect at it, but I stuck to it.

As always, I close this out hoping I have shed some light and shared some as well. As for me? I'm thinking about the future. I'm not sure how I'll feel when my b'reservoirs are just cleavage again.

Ah, them B'reservoirs.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡