Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Taking the "moo" out of motherhood

For anyone out there who might still be interested in the state of my breastfeeding efforts -- and let's face it, I'm barely interested these days -- here's a quick update.

At 6 months, 1 week, things are winding down. Since I returned to work until about three weeks ago, I had been breastfeeding once in the morning, and then pumping 5-6 times per day (including one middle-of-the-night pump). About two weeks ago, I started consistently dropping one daytime pump, bringing the total down to 5 pumps. I was only getting about 10-12 ounces from all of those, but continuing to chug along.

Last week, I got my period and decided that the 2 a.m. pump was going to go. Almost immediately my supply dropped to 7-8 ounces per day. Now I'm down to about 5 ounces over 4 pumps, and I think I'm done. I'm spending close to 90 minutes a day at work pumping very little milk, and that's time I could be spending getting work done so that I can go home and play with the Chicklette. All for one bottle a day. Also, I've got two multi-day business trips coming up, and the thought of a) dragging my pumping stuff with me, and b) figuring out whether to pump and dump or ship milk back on dry ice is just too much for my frazzled brain.

So. I'm going to cut a pump every few days until I'm done. I'll keep feeding her in the morning for as long as there's something to feed her, but the dairy bar is otherwise closing.

I'm trying not to feel too gleeful at the prospect of getting my boobs back, but I can't help it. I'm already planning my nursing bra-burning party.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Dang it!

Well, it was bound to happen sometime.

I got my period.

For the first time since March 2009.

And you know how I know that I haven't completely left the infertility journey behind? Because I was DISAPPOINTED. Not just because now I have to go back to buying feminine products and eschewing white pants, but because a leetle teeny tiny part of me was wondering if maybe just maybe I was miraculously pregnant again already! Even with the breastfeeding! And the sperm count!


The good news: I can finally drop that middle-of-the-night pump. Because now that my supply has been officially deemed A Joke, and now that Aunt Flo is back, there is no conceivable frickin' reason for me to get up in the middle of the night.

Does my body even know how to sleep more than 5 hours in a stretch?

I shall report back.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Satan has been renounced

Or, alternately phrased, we have christened the Chicklette.

She was a champ. It was 95 degrees out, with about 95 (OK, I exaggerate) friends and relatives wanting a piece of the baby, but she didn't cry at all. In fact, she looked so serious when the priest was baptising her that I half-expected her to engage him in a theological discussion.

But, there were cupcakes.
And a sleepy baby.

Life is good.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Traveling mama

This week I embarked on my first business trip since having the chicklette. Just one night away, but with all of the anxiety I'd been having, you'd think it was a month-long trip around the world. It's not so much being away from the baby that made me nervous -- I was actually looking forward to a quiet night, to be honest -- but more the fact that I hadn't been on a plane in 8 months. Or had to pack a bag. Or had to bring a breast pump with me. I'm out of practice.

So, here's the story. I had to give a presentation in San Francisco on Tuesday morning, and then hop on a plane around noon to LA. My plan was to get to the office at 8, pump, present at 9, and then hightail it to the airport.

Here's how it actually went down:

Got to pumping room at 8:30. Realized that even though I bring a pump to work EVERY SINGLE DAY, I somehow managed, on THIS day, to forget my pump horns. Swore profusely. Ran back to my office to see if the Walgreens downstairs had pump supplies. They didn't. Located a Target between my office and SFO that had what I needed. Found one. Checked my flight. See that it'd been delayed for 2 hours, making me late for my meeting in LA. Called travel agent. Rebooked on flight out of Oakland. Gave presentation, boobs afire (I fed the babe at 6:15, so by 10 I was really feeling it). Ran down to car, drove feverishly to Babies R' Us near Oakland airport. Ran in, bought flanges. Ran to car, got pumping bra on. Ripped open box to discover that I only bought the flanges, not the valves. Ran back into Babies R' Us, grabbed a box with valves. Ran back to car, ripped open box to discover that the box only has ONE piece. (I have two boobs.) Ran back to BRU, bought ANOTHER set, tried to convince register lady that I do not have some serial shopping disorder. Ran back to car, hooked up the girls, pumped in BRU parking lot. Flashed my nips to some random woman who had the ill fortune to park next to me. Drove to airport.

Going through the security line with breast milk was much less harrowing than I expected, although I did have some woman (a passenger) call me out for being in the "medical liquids" line. I guess I don't look like I need medical liquids? Guess who almost got a bottle of room temperature breast milk poured on her?

Anyway, the rest of the day went fine and I ended up getting upgraded to a PENTHOUSE SUITE at the Beverly Hilton, which was a pretty sweet (haha, get it?) way to spend my first night alone. And that night -- it was just a little bit blissful.

But I did miss my morning chicklette smiles. And I am happy to be home.

And I will NOT forget those damn pump horns next time!