The slump.

I just managed to pump three whole ounces of breast milk. It took half an hour and both breasts. But I got THREE! That’s enough for a whole feeding!* I actually did a dance. Actually. A dance.

Now, I used to be able to pump six ounces from each breast, in fifteen minutes. Sometimes I would take a quick break at work, and pump four quick ounces in ten or less minutes. I never had trouble pumping, and I always had enough expressed milk for Henry to have when I was at work.

I had heard about the “6 month slump” in milk production. This is due to some combination of your milk supply finally regulating itself (supposedly a bonus if you’re a heavy leaker like me), your baby nursing less often/more efficiently, sleeping longer (hopefully) at night and thus diminishing the supply-boosting night nursing, the introduction of solids potentially offsetting your production, and your body honing its recognition of the baby’s suckling (again helping keep you from leaking as much as you–supposedly–don’t just let down at random as much, or at hearing/viewing babies) which can lead to its ceasing to be fooled by the pump and the refusal to “let down” for plastic cones and suction systems. All leading to your body only responding to your baby and producing only enough milk for said baby. Thus no easily won let-down for the pump, and no easily extracted extra milk for the fridge.

Like every “issue” I had heard about breast-feeding, I assumed I wouldn’t run into this particular problem. I still think that naiveté a good thing, as worrying/stress is thought to be a significant inhibitor of milk production. And in the early months you need to try to believe everything will be fine and that you’re doing everything right, otherwise it’s pretty hard to make it through.

But let’s stop just a moment and realize that I have been nursing my baby for six whole months. I often feel like such a failure–trying to be a good parent as well as a scholar and a teacher and a partner and a person. Succeeding at one identity often means some failure at another. But I am proud of myself and my family (Baby Daddy’s support is key) for sustaining a beautiful breastfeeding relationship for six months. Our intention is to continue past Henry’s first year, and then we’ll just see where everyone is at. But we set smaller goals in the meantime–and six months is kind of a major-smaller-goal.

And let’s take a moment to recognize that I have also, in addition to nursing, been providing enough expressed breastmilk, VIA A SINGLE-SIDE MANUAL PUMP, Y’ALL, to nourish my baby for six whole months. Sure every few weeks a bottle of formula would need to be made, and we haven’t seriously introduced solids on a daily basis, more as an exploration here and there (but we should get on it, I know). It’s been boobs, boobs, and more boobs, and the bottle while I’m at work or writing for 1/3 days, for six months.

Good job, me. Good job, girls.

We’ll leave the fret and worry for another day, another post.

*When Hank was six weeks old he was sucking down six oz bottles and crying for more. He went through a completely anti-bottle phase where he would drink just enough to take the edge off (usually an ounce, rarely two) or to fall asleep and would otherwise “wait” for me to get home. Since he was waking up 8 times a night to nurse we figured it was okay that he wasn’t taking in much during those few hours a couple days a week while I was at work, and he continued to gain weight like an effing champion so the pediatrician told us not to worry about how much he took from the bottle. He came back to a congenial enough relationship with the bottle and BabyDaddy and Nanny have landed on three as the “magic number” of ounces to offer at each feeding when I’m gone. It might seem kinda low for a baby his age/size (thus the footnote) but we’re not worried about it.