Farewell Breast pump.


DISCLAIMER: This is a bit personal and may be a little TMI for some people.

I have been weaning down my milk supply for over a month, and I think I’m finally done pumping for comfort.  For 21 months I provided human milk for my son each day.  It is the end of an era.  It seems appropriate to take a moment to reflect.

Max received a diet of exclusively human milk (fortified with formula off and on) for nearly his entire first year of life.  To achieve this, I pumped for him 6 to 8 times a day for at least 25 minutes at a time.  That’s a lot of time.  In his second year, Max began receiving a whole foods blenderized diet in addition to a significant amount of human milk.  As the year progressed I began to wean my milk supply.  I heard of crazy hormone shifts and mood swings from other mothers who had weaned suddenly, and I didn’t want to add any more stress to my already stressful life.  So it would be a slow wean.  As an added benefit, I could offer my son a few extra antibodies through the cold and flu season – which would be even more important now that I am working in a hospital and bringing some brand new germs into the house.  I pumped 4 to 5 times a day, then 3 to 4 times a day.  As of April I was actively weaning.  I pumped morning and night for a week. then just morning for another week.  Then one day it was obviously time to quit.

After pumping for my usual half hour, one of my nipples was killing me!  I examined it and I noticed two good sized cracks or broken skin on the outer edge of the nipple.  Eeek! No wonder it hurt so bad.  I wondered how I could pump even once a day with this “injury”.   As I expressed my concerns to my husband, the voice of reason said: “Stop!  This is your body telling you it’s time to stop!”  This coming from a man who has always been in great support of breastfeeding, I knew I had to listen to him.  He was right.

Those first couple of week felt weird.  I’d be doing something in the middle of the day, stop suddenly and gasp.  In a split second I would think:  OMG, I need to pump!  When did I last pump?!  Then in the next split second I would think Oh right, I don’t have to do that anymore.  And when I got engorged five days after later I thought I had mastitis, cancer, a tumor…I hadn’t felt engorged in over a year- I couldn’t remember what it felt like!

At any rate, this era of my life that has come to a close.  When I think about all that time I must have spent pumping, I can’t believe I made it all work.  When did I find time to wash all those bottles and pump parts?  I remember several occasions on which I was just getting ready to head out the door to run an errand or do something fun, when I realized that I had forgotten to pump.  For quick errands I could get away with it, but on other occasions I had to drop everything and do at least a quick pump before I left.

It was tough, being a “slave to the pump”, as they say.  Exclusive pumping is much more difficult than breastfeeding (not that I’m an expert, as I have never breastfed).  It is a route for only the most stubborn and determined mothers.  And no woman need feel like less of a mother because exclusive pumping didn’t work for her.  I would never recommend it to anyone, and I know other mothers in my shoes who feel the same way.  I’m glad I did it, I’m glad it worked out for me and my family, I’m glad I was able to give Max the best nature can offer, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.  I’m happily saying farewell to my breast pump and welcoming the new found freedom.  Now I only have to schedule my life around Max, one factor is taken out of the equation.

The Wheelchair I never wanted


When I first heard about babywearing I loved it.  Cuddling my baby instead of looking at him from stroller distance sounded wonderful to me.  Then I heard and read all about the benefits of babywearing (like this, and this, and this) and I loved it even more.  I talked to moms who wore their babies until they were four or five – moving from a front carry to a hip carry to a back carry.

When Max was born with a brain injury, all those benefits of babywearing were even more important.  Temperature regulation, better oxygenation, improved physical development, better weight gain – these were all areas that he needed all the help he could get.  So I vowed to make babywearing work.  And I put up a serious fight.  When he arched and cried in the wrap, I went out for walks so that he would get used to being in it and calm with the movement of walking and being outdoors.  And we worked for a long time to get him used to it and to the point where he liked it.  We tried different wraps: Moby, Mai Tei, and a woven wrap- and we had mixed results, but we never gave up.  In retrospect I can say his intolerance for being worn had more to do with his slow digestion and the pressure on his tummy giving him a tummy ache than not liking the wrap, but when you have a baby who doesn’t like to be worn or “strolled” it makes life complicated.  As Max’s digestion improved so did his tolerance for being worn.  I heard about Rachel Coleman wearing her cerebral palsy child until she was eleven (probably older!), and I was inspired.  I told myself we wouldn’t get a wheelchair either.  We would have so much more freedom if we just wore Max where ever we wanted to go (hiking, stairs, etc).

But as Max grew to 22 and 23 pounds still didn’t have much sense of balance and ability to hold on, it became harder and harder to carry him around.  Think about it like carrying a 23-pound newborn, or an sleeping toddler.  I started to realize that there were obvious benefits to having a wheelchair.  I started to feel those 23 pounds more and more – in my back and my knees that is…

Then there were concerns of Max’s therapists.  He had a definite preference for his right side and would tend to slouch to that side when supported sitting curving his spine as he sat.  This was a problem and we needed some form of brace to strengthen the other muscles to maintain a straight spine.  They recommended a wheelchair.  It could be designed to fit him and his needs perfectly.  It would support his spine without needing someone to monitor his positioning constantly – it would be a form of physical therapy.

So started the arduous process of obtaining a wheelchair.  There was the fitting with the wheelchair designer.  The therapists discussed Max’s needs and ordered the necessary features.  Then the applications had to be filled out.  The therapists had to justify every single feature and obtain a doctor’s order for a wheelchair.  And finally the waiting.  We waited a month…heard nothing.  Another month…we’ve been approved by medicaid!  One more month…we were waiting for one more piece to come in.  Another month…the pieces were in, they just needed to be put together.

Each week my back and my knees got achier.  My anticipation for the wheelchair grew and grew, and I wondered if I could carry this baby around much longer.  Finally we got the call that the chair was ready and we scheduled a fitting.  Max got his wheelchair and it works great for him.  He’s still getting used to it, and he has moments that he just wants to be held and cuddled like old times, but it is so much better for our family.

I thought I never wanted a wheelchair.  I had great hopes that Max would walk one day, and I figured until that time we could babywear.  And maybe that works for some families, but it wasn’t right for ours.  If Max has always loved being worn it might be easier.  If Max had great head control and I could be confident of his ability to support his neck in a back carry we probably would have done it longer and more often.   I’m not ready to say that this is the end of my “Max-wearing”, but I’m willing to say that I don’t have the stamina to wear him every time we are out and about.  Kuodos to all you mothers who do.  I still believe that wearing is great for babies, toddles, and even older kids.  I admire Rachel Coleman.  But I can’t be her.  That’s not me; my situation is different; my baby is different.  During that last month waiting for the wheelchair, I was pining for it.  The wheelchair that I never wanted became something that would solve all my problems.


Now that it’s here, yeah, maybe I built it up to be more than it really is.  My back still hurts after taking care of Max all day.  I still pick him up and put him down on the floor and strain my knees, but I’m very thankful for the chair.  I think it does offer a lot of freedom for us – I don’t feel trapped in my own home – and most of all that it is challenging Max to grow and strengthen his body in a way that he wouldn’t be challenged if we were to carry him all the time.

It’s another one of those things that is not what I dreamed for my child, but it’s what is best for him at this point in his life.