The End of an Era

When Mira was born, she had problems latching that she never overcame, so I practiced exclusive pumping.  I knew most people gave up breastfeeding fairly early and even more gave up on pumping. I was determined to "do it right," whatever that meant. I was blessed with a good supply and  pumped for 10 months, with enough stored milk to get her through the first year.  This plan worked perfectly, until she ran out of milk right before her surgery and we had to try and get her to eat something different right after.  I carted the pump with me to Georgia for a family wedding and to Alaska for a family trip for my in-law's 50th anniversary.  I pumped on planes, in airports, at church, at work, in hotel rooms, on a cruise ship, at the hospital, and at home.  I fought with TSA about liquid restrictions and had to let them chemically test some of the milk.  

Once we found out about Patrick's heart and knew he was going to be whisked away to the NICU, I knew I would have to pump with him, too, at least initially. Given the issues he had, it turned out that breastfeeding was never going to be an option with him.  Luckily, I could fall back on the experience I had with exclusive pumping with Mira.  I knew I was going to be fine and planned to do the same for him I did for her--get to 1 year. I thought I already knew what to expect and how to fit pumping into my day. What I didn't realize was it was going to be more difficult with a toddler, who wanted my attention or to sit in my lap, ask lots of questions, help me put the pump together, turn the pump off and on, and generally act all of her 3-years of age. I also hated having to lose so much sleep to the pumping process. Still, Patrick had enough health issues, and GI stuff going on, that I couldn't imagine switching him to formula. He already got the milk fortified with formula, and then we had to switch to the most expensive kind.  That made it an economic necessity to keep pumping.  Plus, breastfeeding moms get free meals from the hospital. Given how much time Patrick was spending in the hospital, all those free meals were really saving us a lot of money. How could I give it up?

Even so, the last few weeks, I had been really struggling.  I felt like I should give up pumping, for my time and sanity.  I was stressing out, and my supply was decreasing, which stressed me out more, which decreased the supply more, creating a no-win stressor cycle.  I was also tired of trying to time my pumping so that I didn't miss rounds or doctor visits, wasn't in the middle of the 2-hour drive between home and the hospital, or wasn't ready to fall over into a nap or sleep when it was time to pump. Time to run errands was rare enough, it sucked when it fell during pumping time. Still, the economic benefits, as well as the health benefits for Patrick, made me keep at it.

Then, Phil and I made plans to be gone last weekend. We were going to leave Friday, spend the night away from home (so I didn't have to worry about what needed cleaning), and visit my family in Indianapolis, and not come back until Monday evening. Our weekend away was not only sanctioned by the doctors, but they threatened to write a prescription requiring it. In order to go, however, we had to bring some of our frozen milk from home to feed Patrick while I was gone.  No problem. We had a fair amount stored and had brought some just the week before so I get time away. We made two trips between hospital and home to get enough milk to cover five days--I made sure they had enough for six, just in case.

We labeled the milk, turned it over to the nurses, and left. Everything was going swimmingly.  I was pumping and freezing while away to replenish our home supply.  Then, Sunday night, I got a text from my friend who we had left as the person to call with any issues.  She informed me that the hospital only had one bag of milk left, because the others were from January and, thus, "expired," so they would be switching Patrick to formula the next day. I read the text, which ironically, arrived while I was attached to the pump. I immediately wrote back that the milk had been kept in a chest freezer, meaning that it was good for 6 months minimum, generally 1 year, and we were not yet at 6 months because it was from late January. She wrote back that the hospital policy was three months and that all the January milk had been thrown out.

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.  I knew I was right and the milk was still good.  How could they have thrown it away without even asking?!  I knew they had no problems with January milk because they had used it the week before. Ignoring the issues related to inconsistent hospital policy (we have already spoken with the appropriate people to make sure none of this happens to anyone else), I couldn't understand how this could have happened.  I was near tears.  I finished pumping and went out to talk to my family.  I explained what had happened and asked them whether it made any sense to keep pumping. The whole point had been to keep Patrick off formula and now that was going to happen, despite my best efforts, so what was the point; particularly since I had been struggling with this issue. We all concluded that I could take it as a sign to quit, even though we all agreed it was a rather sucky sign, as signs go. So, I quit. The next morning, I didn't pump.  I collected the milk I had saved during the trip to take back, but wasn't going to pump any more.  I was sad, and angry, but somewhat relieved.  Still, I told Phil, I wish it had been my choice.  I would have liked time to prepare myself for the end. For it to be my decision, rather than feeling like a forced choice.

The next day, as we were driving home, I received a telephone call on my cell.  It was Patrick's nurse, letting me know they had enough milk through the 1:00 p.m. feed, but would run out at 4:00 p.m.  I explained that we couldn't get there before they ran out and that I had thought they ran out the night before. She was unaware that any had been thrown away and felt very bad about that, but told me not to worry, they would supplement and he would be okay.  I got irritated again because had I known they had enough to get through the afternoon, we could have left sooner on Monday and gotten milk there in time.  I could have kept pumping. My phone rang again. She had found two more bags of milk in the NICU freezer, so they had enough to get to 7:00 p.m.  I thanked her, hung up, and nearly lost it.  I had now missed two pumping sessions, but I could go back if I really wanted. This was it.  It was back to being my choice--sortof.  I could go back to pumping and stop on my own terms.

I sat quietly for a long time as Phil drove.  The emotional ups and downs I had ridden since getting the text the night before were horrible.  I realized I would have to struggle with the possibility of those continuing if I went back.  I had wanted to stop, the universe had given me permission to stop by forcing my hand, and I had stopped.  I had already been struggling with a decreasing supply and additional stress, on top of the stress of pumping.  I called it. We were going to take the last of the "new" milk, and when that ran out, transition Patrick to formula. And yet, I was still angry.  I kept feeling like I didn't get to say goodbye.  I didn't know when I last pumped, that it would be my last pump. I didn't get to prepare. Yes, ultimately, I got to decide if I really wanted to quit, but it wasn't the same.

And I'm still sad. I'm not having any more kids, so that was it. No more pumping. Ever. No more getting to eat more junk food because I am burning off 600 extra calories a day just sitting there. No more 20-minute periods of uninterrupted reading or game playing.  I am also dreading having to purchase formula once we're out of the hospital.  At least they have started him back on "regular" formula, which will save us significant funds if he continues to tolerate it. And I've already had to start buying my meals at the hospital--time to take advantage of the free meals at the Ronald McDonald House and to buy some groceries.

Don't get me wrong.  There are lots of plus sides to having given up pumping--extra sleep, no timing worries, and adult beverages, to name a few. There's also a lot less stress, which is huge.  I don't regret the choice I made; just the circumstances under which it was made.  I'm still sorting through my feelings dealing with all of this change and finality. But, I'm grateful that I was able to pump for as long as I was, and that I was able to produce as much as I did.  I am working on giving myself credit for what I was able to achieve, rather than focusing on what went wrong.  So, thank you to my Medela Pump in Style double electric breast pump. We spent a combined 19 months of my life together and produced, conservatively, 25,650 ounces--200 gallons--in that time! Thank you for allowing me to nourish my kids. We had a great run.