I’m going to have to wake Callum up in a few minutes so that I have time to feed him before we head off to our latest doctor’s appointment this afternoon. And some all important Dollarama shopping. I am hoping that he will be back to his birth weight today – it’s taken long enough.
For a number of reasons, I’ve been supplementing with formula. The reasons being (a) when he first came home, there was no evidence he was peeing at all (I know disposable diapers absorb well but they were light as a feather when I changed him) and I was worried about dehydration; (b) he started looking a little yellow and the way we got rid of Oliver’s horrible three weeks of orange-ness was formula; (c) it’s easy to fall into old habits – this is how I know how to feed babies!; and (d) I am still convinced that I am not a great milk producer.
(if you don’t want to read about nursing, look away now)
I wondered if it would be different breastfeeding this time, but it was the same – no engorgement, no way to tell when my milk came in, no cup size increase! I mean, it was generally easier – I pretty much knew what to do, and Callum has no problem latching on. I got through the pain barrier in a week with the help of some much-loved Lansinoh, and I did my best to keep him satisfied. But after a few nights of hours of crying and frustration (on both our parts), I knew that I was going to start supplementing more. And 2 oz per feed, for most feeds, seems to be doing it.
Some people love breastfeeding. I don’t. I actually prefer bottle feeding. I feel more confident because I can see how much he’s eating. I actually feel better knowing that he’s not completely dependent on me for survival. But I continue with the breastfeeding because I want him to get the benefits of it, even if I actually sort of still hate it. Though I also hate the expense of the formula and the evilness of the companies and all that complicated stuff. And for some reason, all the formula here says not to sterilise equipment using the the microwave. Well, I am still using my Avent microwave steriliser and it never killed Oliver, so I am going to continue using it.
Right on cue, he’s woken up hungry and we’ve got to get ready to go – good timing, kiddo.
Edited to add:
An afternoon of accomplishments. Birth weight achieved, kicked some Christmas butt at the dollar store, and received scorn from a pharmacist who clearly thinks I am neglecting my child as he already has fierce diaper rash requiring an antibiotic prescription. Okay, so if I am already changing 15 diapers a day, how can I possibly change him anymore frequently?