Had someone told me I’d be pouring milk into a container, hanging it around my neck and taping the tubes attached to it to my breasts I’d not have believed it. I’d tell them: “Bring on the bottle, mate.”
I had said I was open to combination feeding if need be and after all the stress involved in making the decision to supplement with formula and expressed milk, I was actually surprised at what I felt giving her the bottle.
I hate the fact that I’ve been underfeeding my daughter for all these weeks without knowing it, that I couldn’t work out what was wrong when all the time she was hungry.
A visit from a lactation consultant confirmed what I’d thought from week one. I’ve got a low milk supply.
Talitha hasn’t really been gaining weight. She didn’t lose much in the initial postpartum days but excitingly gained that and more by day ten. Two weeks later she’s gained nothing. Two weeks after that…
All well and good but d’ya mean I have to have this girl on my breast every waking (and often, sleeping) hour? I love her, I enjoy her but if I can’t do the laundry or fix myself something to eat, I’ll go a little mad.
Breastfeeding has not been easy. Every time I think I’ve learned the rules, Talitha changes them. There is no schedule other than “whatever the day feels like”. But the unpredictable nature of early breastfeeding has done me a lot of good.
The prospect of breastfeeding is both exciting and a little scary. Suddenly these baps aren’t just about me.