Knocked Up

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  • Adventures in Milk Production

    Now that I have over a year's worth of combined milk production time, between both boys, I feel like I'm something of a lactation specialist.  So let me share what I've learned with you, the sort of things that I did not read in the La Leche League manual:

     

    1.  The Eating/Milk Connection

     

    You are what you eat.  Thus, your milk is what you eat, and since your baby has your milk, your baby is also what you eat, and your baby's poop might smell like your dinner.  You've probably heard all about eating beans and giving your baby gas, or the spicy food/fuss connection, neither of which seem to have had any effect on my nurslings.  But what you eat does get into your milk, and into your baby.  Even if what you eat is a chewy gob of high fructose corn syrup.  

     

    The day after Halloween, I was sitting on the floor, playing with Jonas.  Something smelled sweet.  Like candy.  It seemed to be coming from Jonas' rear.  Had Axel shoved some of his candy down his brother's diaper to save it for later?  Did Jonas decide to do some late night Trick-or-Treating of his own?  I opened up the diaper to check and, instead of finding a shiny yellow plastic package, I found mushy yellow poo.  

     

    Poo that smelled exactly like Swedish Fish. 

     

    Exactly like the Swedish Fish I'd gobbled up the night before.  The Swedish Fish that went from my mouth to my stomach to my milk to my baby to his poop. 

     

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  • Weaning

    Ouch.  Double ouch.  Over the last few weeks, we gradually replaced nursing or pumping sessions with formula.  After nine months of 99% mama's milk, the challenges of pumping for an hour a day while still getting work done, combined with other factors, made me decide to move Axel from the boob to the bottle and sippy cup.  On Monday morning, Axel nursed for the last time.  It's been 48 hours without milke expression and damn does my chest hurt. 

     

    I admire - and envy - those mothers who are able to stick with it.  Just 36% of mothers make it to six months.  I was lucky enough to have the support of family, a great lacation consultant, a private place to use the dreaded pump at work, and a body/baby that could make it work, with some guidance and training.   If I were at home with Axel, I think we'd still be nursing.  I've got mixed feelings about it all - the working, the mothering, staying at home, boobs and bottles and babies.  Formula is seriously expensive.  Thought I hated nursing in public, and could never get comfortable with the possibility of showing that much skin to strangers even if it was for the nourishment of my child, it (after lots of work in the first four months) was easy to roll out of bed, wander sleepily down to Axel's room, scoop him up and bring him back to bed with me for an early morning nursing/cat napping session.  But it's also easy to hand Axel a sippy cup to drink from/bang on the floor while I make dinner.  He doesn't seem to miss nursing. 

     

    As I said, it hurts.  Seriously. 

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  • Food and Fears

    My son is in danger of starving.  He's going to waste away to nothing but a set of big blue-to-hazel eyes and wild light blond hair.  Yesterday, at childcare, he only drank two ounces of milk.  Today, he cut that to an ounce and a half.  He spent the days showing off, crawling around the room by putting down his right hand, then left, then pushing off his left foot.  Hand, hand, foot, repeat, until he'd criss-crossed the soft mat and the not so soft carpet.  I think he's trying to dig a groove in the shape of a 747 around the exersaucers and bouncy seats.  He has no time for nourishment - he's got important tricks to practice, a substitute teacher to seduce with his big grin and drool, and a roomfull of babies to impress.  Soon he'll lose a few of the slow-to-come pounds he's put on.  If it keeps up, he won't just crawl out of his pants, as he often does now; they'll fall off him the minute I pull them up.  

     

    Perhaps I'm overreacting. 

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About the Blogger

Oz Spies

Oz Spies in Denver

Oz Spies lives in Denver, Colorado with her husband, a firefighter; their son, Axel; and a slightly obese dog and cat. She has a MFA in Creative Writing from Colorado State University.

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