Musings on a Somewhat Momentous Occasion

Today, I fed Hazen a bottle with the last of the Breast Milk that I had pumped. While he was in the hospital, I pumped 8 times a day, religiously, probably only missing 5 or 6 pumps total. I was adamant that doing this for my baby was the best thing I could possibly do for him, and I was really intent on nursing him once he was stable enough to have something other than IV fluids, or my milk via a feeding tube.

I didn't get to actually NURSE him until he was about 40-45 days old. I don't remember exactly, but it was somewhere in that range. I remember how NERVOUS I was. It was almost like a first date. I know, it's odd, and a mom should be intuitively ready for something like that, but it was such an awkward/exciting experience. I think it was the 40+ days of build up that made it into a bigger deal than it was. Hazen would only nurse with a Nipple Shield (sorry if this is TMI), but he actually took to it alright.

However, my body had another thing in mind. The countless hours spent pumping, labeling, and freezing my milk was a Catch 22. It was a good thing because it allowed me to keep up my supply, but it was a bad thing, because it had taught my body to only let down for a machine. If I had realized what would happen, I would have continued to only pump, and not even attempt to nurse, because by the time that I realized that as he was growing, my body wouldn't let down ENOUGH for him, the milk had sufficiently decreased that pumping again couldn't even save it.

I was devastated. For a few days, I tried to keep with it, hating myself because I couldn't "do it" right, and being frustrated with Hazen because "didn't he get it? I had tried for so long to do this....FOR HIM!" We would try to feed for 30-45 minutes, and then he would scream about 10 minutes later...because he was STILL HUNGRY. I had such horrible feelings of being a failure as a mother. What could I do for my baby that ANY other person couldn't do as well?

Once I came to term with this, we decided to introduce formula. I had the option of only feeding him the bottled milk, which, at the rate he was going through, wouldn't last as long as I wanted it to. So, I made the hard decision to give him formula, and supplement Breast Milk one day a week.

We estimated that there were between 740-760 of the bottles. This is roughly the equivalent of 2080 ounces of milk.

Oddly enough, giving him that last bottle, the day before he turns 9 months old was a kind of emotional experience for me. It signified so many things. So many hours spent pumping. So many prayers uttered while I did it, praying that one day, the milk I was working so hard for would actually be fed to a baby. A baby that would hopefully come home to us. There were so many tears that were shed while I pumped. Tears of confusion- why was my sweet baby so sick? Tears of anger- What did WE do to deserve this? And tears of joy, as I looked at the pictures of my beautiful baby. Now, the tears that I shed are tears of gratitude. So grateful that while he was fed through A BOTTLE, we have shared so many wonderful bonding moments. Glances filled with love, a milky smile, and a tender snuggle after he's fallen into a milk-induced coma. No, I didn't do it "how I expected" to do it, but I did it. My son loves me, and we have a special bond I challenge anyone to question.