I’m going through another bout of frustration and worry about breastfeeding. This one must have been brought on by our switch out of donated breastmilk to formula – we’re making one from goat’s milk. And there’s a lot going on around that: regular store trips to get the milk, wondering if we’re making it right, the daily chore of making it (which I really can’t complain about because my sweet husband does it), watching her for reactions to it, the extra work of night feedings using non-breastmilk (you can’t leave it out between feedings, so someone – again, willing husband in this case – has to get up and warm a bottle at each wake-up).
Basically, all of the extra stuff involved brings home to me yet again how much better this would be if my breasts made enough milk. Easier to nurse her to sleep. Much much easier to feed her at night. Less time and fewer chores each day, more time to be with baby or just relax.
As well, pumping at work is not going so great. I’m pumping twice a day, lately getting out one ounce each time. That’s half an ounce from each breast, if you were counting. And I’m noticing that my breasts aren’t feeling full anymore the way they were a few weeks ago. I don’t know if it’s the diet or just the accumulation of less baby-on-breast time, but now I’m worried my supply is dropping and I won’t get it back.
And there are things I can try. And I will. But I’ve been down that road before and found that with my body, nothing seemed to help.
Husband pointed out that I said before that when I was more relaxed and accepting of the situation, my milk seemed to flow better. I so did not want to hear that. I don’t even really know if it’s true.
I do know that I’m in a milk funk. Sick sick of this. And I thought for sure by 1 year I’d be out of the woods in terms of stress over milk. Apparently, no. I can now see that this will go on indefinitely. And it’s going to take something major to change my always-present distress over my body, my girl and milk.