Pumping and Dumping

not what you think it is

Whimpers resembling those of a sad, stray puppy left my partially closed lips as I poured 4 ounces of hour old breast milk down the kitchen sink. I left it out after having a meeting that ran into me picking up babe, which then turned into a two-hour long conversation with her dad. I came home to liquid gold sitting in the middle of the red and orange afghani rug covering the part of hardwood floor not held down by my floored bed.

Pumping is not something most moms enjoy. Unless the milk taps are engorged. In that case (and that case only), it is a blessing sent with a choir of angels and that black boy that ATE the solo of “Oh, Happy Day” at the end of Sister Act 2. Yeah.

As an ignorant woman, before deciding to procreate and then breastfeed exclusively, I assumed that there was an endless supply of milk that would appear in my tits no matter the time of day, no matter how long it had been since last offering my breasts to my babe. Boy [Girl, They], was I wrong. Boobs produce the amount of milk that your babe needs. Some people have oversupply or undersupply, depending on how much they get their breasts emptied by a sucking mouth or a mimicking machine milk collector. As your babe grows, it will have times of cluster feeding to increase your milk supply. Which are days that having a binge-worthy TV show and piles of endless snacks is absolutely necessary.

As I mentioned in a previous post, while doing my best to survive postpartum, I noticed that my babe latched better to my right tit. This can be for various reasons: anatomy of the boob, baby having a favorite, the flow, etc. because of this, there will often be a slacker boob in the mix. That was my left boob. After a while, I realized she didn’t even latch to the left at all, so that boob doesn’t have much to offer her anymore, except occasionally a twiddle toy while she sucks the life out of the right one. This has made pumping milk one-sided (obviously) and [probably] providing less milk than if I had two working boobs. With that, every ounce counts… so having to dump 4 ounces down the drain really crushed my spirit yesterday. I have to make up for those lost nutrients today, all while a babe is trying to suck all of it out of my boobs around the clock.

“Nursing on-demand,” i.e. nursing whenever babe wants to, versus having her nurse on a schedule that is more convenient for me. I was never all that pressed about getting her on a strict schedule, though many people, including her pediatrician told me that’s what baby’s thrive in. As most humans do. Routine. But as I was adjusting to parenthood, I realized how difficult it was for me to get myself into a solid postpartum routine, on top of wanting to feel like babe and I could adjust to, accept and flow freely through whatever the differences of each day held. As she gains awareness of the world and I gain insight on parenting this particular child, I can see myself becoming more strict with a routine, but right now, this flexibility works for us. And I enjoy this seemingly natural way that we are choosing to breastfeed and comfort each other in this world.

Breastfeeding has been an amazing learning experience. One that has reminded me even more of my power, even when I spill or dump old milk down the drain.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

Abby xx