Crying Over Lost Milk

I have breastfed my baby boy for the last time, and this realization has had me crying all day. Not sweet little corner-of-the-eye dabbing with a tissue, no. There is not enough Kleenex or Puffs in all of Costco to keep up with my current sob rate. I have just skipped right to the efficient use of a hand towel as a hankie. I'm on my second one.

Why do components of motherhood come with the price of depression?  Postpartum depression.  Post weaning depression.  There is probably some cosmically enlightening reason for it, but it eludes me.  Whatever the price I'll pay it.  For now I am in the dark as to the whys of it all, and my hand towels are covered in tears and snot.  

Just about three weeks ago I dutifully strapped on my breast pump to collect milk to feed the Duper while I am at work. All that really came out was sparks, smoke, and the sound of grinding gears. Out of my boobs, not the breast pump. I had a pretty similar meltdown as the one I am having today. I was already drinking Mother's Milk tea, so I doubled down on that and continued to hydrate as if going pee was my primary source of income. I also went to a local health food store and bought a lactation support supplement. Then I got a call in to my local Leche League Goddess (love you Mary Jane) to make sure I was doing everything I should. I experienced a little upturn in lactation for all my efforts. We also had a 10 day vacation planned for a family reunion in Iowa and were looking forward to introducing our son to the clan. I looked forward to this uninterrupted time together to breastfeed on demand and really getting my milk supply stoked again.

Holy Mother of Milk. 5 days postpartum

When Duper was born, I needed to supplement with formula for just a few days until my milk really came in. After less than a week he was exclusively breastfed until he was four months old. At this point it was time to start introducing new foods, and for me to go back to work. At first it was all I could do to be away from my baby for six hours and my breasts would be near bursting as I rushed home to breastfeed. I am an RN currently doing home care so there is neither the privacy or sanitary conditions available for me to pump at work. I continued to breastfeed on demand when home and pump to make bottles for my absence. I supplemented the bottles with formula to meet his needs. Soon baby boy was eating baby food like a champ and most times sleeping through the night. Given these changes my production gradually went down.

Which brings me to the last few days. With aggressive pumping I can only get about four to six ounces of breast milk a day to add the ever growing bottle volume needed to keep up with our growing boy. He has decided the amount of effort required for too little return is just not worth it. The last few times he latched on he arched away and fussed. I must have lost my milk-smell, too. He would often latch on when I had him in the bath with me, or if I was topless and within his reach. He doesn't even try. My breasts have become like any other part of me, not a food supply. He and my breasts had a weaning meeting that I was not invited to.  I tried one more time to get him to latch on today. He opened his mouth, and then closed it without leaning in. Just like that. No crying, mourning, or histrionics. He's left that all to me.  I just wish I would have known that the last time was the last time.  I would have burned it into my heart.  I found myself in a near panic trying to remember his last latch.

Just to keep the emotional/hormonal funhouse of motherhood jazzy, I started menstruating again in June (for the first time since January 2016). Some part of me hoped that maybe I would slide right into menopause postpartum. I have had three cycles in the last six weeks. WHEEE!!!

One would think I would be delighted to have my boobs back as MINE. After all the cracked, sore nipples and bouts of mastitis. And the sensitivity – not in a good way. I have not been out of a sports bra for anything other than a shower since birthing. Can't even sleep without one. And then he sprouted teeth. And that pump.  It's like being molested by a machine.  But I have nursed my baby boy for the last time, and it is breaking my heart. I cry as I write.

Let me take a moment to express gratitude. I have been able to breastfeed my son until he was nine months old. He is strong and happy and healthy and growing daily in both size and ability. I was hoping to nurse him to a year old. Some mothers never get that. Some never have adequate milk production. Some babies never learn to latch properly. And other stuff. My forty-odd year old breasts served honorably. This is the logical way to view the situation. I have, and am aware of both my Logic and my Emotion, tho they do not have anything to do with each other. All the water of Logic can not put out the fire of Emotion. I would liken it to throwing a glass of water on a pan of burning bacon. The turmoil of parenting is the grease fire of the mother's heart.

This little dude slid slyly into my womb, my heart, my life. I never knew all the feels that were included in the motherhood package. It's like seeing colors you've never seen before. And then the attachment to breastfeeding. That bond. Talkative as I am, I don't know if I could ever explain it.

Post boobie sleeping bliss

I always breastfed him to sleep on the bed, and then would sneak him into his crib. In the last – when did it even happen? – few months? He would nurse and then fuss to be put into his crib, popping his favorite sucking fingers into his mouth as I would lower him in and cover him with his favorite blanket.

The last breastfeeding photo I took. That little hand on my heart melted it <3

The first night we were home from the family reunion, he nursed asleep in bed, and I snuck my angel into his crib. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy, that hadn't happened in a while. I came out and told Duncan “I may have just nursed him to sleep for the last time.” I was right. What a gift. And today it hit me that I have just plain nursed him for the last time. Period.

Trying to keep up with new motherhood stifles the long view of how precious these moments are

The only constant thing in life is change, and our love for our children. New things open and others close. Our favorite things will happen for a last time. When experienced parents tell new parents – enjoy every moment, don't blink – it takes the new parents a little while to live what that means.

 "Returning to Love"

 

The Last Time

From the moment you hold your baby in your arms,
you will never be the same.
You might long for the person you were before,
When you have freedom and time,
And nothing in particular to worry about.

You will know tiredness like you never knew it before,
And days will run into days that are exactly the same,
Full of feedings and burping,
Nappy changes and crying,
Whining and fighting,
Naps or a lack of naps,
It might seem like a never-ending cycle.

But don’t forget …
There is a last time for everything.
There will come a time when you will feed
your baby for the very last time.
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child.

One day you will carry them on your hip then set them down,
And never pick them up that way again.
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone.
They will hold your hand to cross the road,
Then never reach for it again.
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles,
And it will be the last night you ever wake to this.

One afternoon you will sing “the wheels on the bus”
and do all the actions,
Then never sing them that song again.
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate,
The next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone.
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your last dirty face.
They will run to you with arms raised for the very last time.

The thing is, you won’t even know it’s the last time
Until there are no more times.
And even then, it will take you a while to realize.

So while you are living in these times,
remember there are only so many of them
and when they are gone, you will yearn for just one more day of them.
For one last time.

-Author Unknown-