There’s nothing like arriving at the babysitter’s while she’s feeding your daughter that extra, “just-in-case” bottle. That familiar sinking feeling sets in as you realize that you now have to pump about three times tonight to account for that milk.
The first time it happened, I could hardly believe my eyes and my ears when I walked through the door. Okay, so I knew that I was a bit late – between just trying to catch up on things on my second week back to work, and dealing with traffic as I adjust to an earlier schedule and an unfamiliar commute, a half hour just slipped by. So there I was, watching my baby’s chubby cheeks break into a happy face while her legs kicked in recognition. The sitter looked equally pleased, “She drank all her milk”, she announced, beaming with pride. I wanted to slap them both. But, seriously, 16 oz of breastmilk? It’s not like I’d been gone for two days…
Five minutes before opening that door, I felt pretty darn good about the 12 oz I’d managed to sneak out of my breasts between meetings, analyses, and workshops. I had dodged impromptu meetings in my cubicle, slunk away during discussions, and grabbed a quick bite for lunch so that I could maximize my time in what my employer affectionately calls the “Nursing Nook”.
You see, that child giggling in the babysitter’s arms is Nina, also known as baby girl number two. She was born the same size as her older sister Symone – a mere 7lbs. Both girls had lost a considerable amount of weight initially, as we struggled to form a proper, productive nursing bond. But, in the end, it worked. The babies learned to latch, and mommy learned to relax, trust this process and obsessively weigh them on a weekly basis.
When I returned to work after the firstborn, she was happily consuming small 3oz portions during the day. She drank a daily maximum of 9oz, and she was more than willing to wait till I arrived home for the rest of her sustenance. She was an avid aficionado of the midnight snack, as well as the 2am one, and perhaps a 4am one for good measure. My little, contented, reverse cycler.
With the second child, I prepared myself for a rerun.
The first day, she drank 8oz of the precious stuff and I knew I was in the clear. I had pumped 10, and figured that if I kept this up, I could provide for all of her needs and wants and still add to her rainy day freezer stash. On day number two, I pumped 12oz and felt like The Goddess of Milk. Only to find that she had knocked back 12oz that day – and thus began the race to keep up with my drinker. She isn’t a reverse cycler, magically sleeping through the night at four months. But, the price for night-time bliss is that I now have to produce three 5oz portions of breastmilk daily.
I have resigned myself to it. My freezer stash is my security blanket – just the knowledge that it is there keeps me relaxed enough to have a proper let-down, and not panic when the milk stops flowing and only 2oz have appeared in the bottles. I pump before I go to bed on weekdays and on weekends. I pump three times a day at work. I pump whenever the baby’s eyes are closed and I have a bit of “extra” time.
On weekends, she drinks directly from the source. I don’t dare prepare that, “just-in-case-we’re-in-public” bottle!
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