I know, you were dying for more stories about my boobs, weren’t you?
Well, what a difference a week makes. Ever since Rebecca was given the green light to stop the high-cal formula, she has been almost exclusively breastfed. She really only gets formula at night when my husband takes a shift, or if I just feel like taking a little break. This also means I’ve virtually stopped pumping for the time being, only hooking myself up if I skip a feeding. And this morning (i.e. 4AM), I pumped over 3 ounces for the first time.
Shortly after pumping, Daniel woke up ready to eat. Well, what the heck… he needs the practice and I need the stimulation for my supply, so I nursed him. And he did pretty darn well! I didn’t have to fight him to latch (well, in the weird way he “latches,” anyways), and he nursed on both sides for at least five minutes each. He then took the 3oz I had just pumped by bottle, and was a happy camper. We both were. I’ve still been trying to put him to breast at least once a day so he doesn’t get out of practice, and he blessedly continues to improve.
Oh, and about an hour and a half after Daniel ate, Rebecca woke up hungry (yeah, they’re so not on the same schedule at the moment, but I’ll worry about that some other time). So I nursed her, and she didn’t even need a bottle afterwards! Wahoo, that’s the first time I’ve nursed both of them back-to-back like that, without needing to supplement.
See, just when you’re ready to give up, things can turn around. Thank goodness. And again, I really think it helped that I’ve let myself off the hook a little bit, and realize that it’s OK if they get fed in different ways. I’m doing my best, and over the past few days, my best has even been improving. Hooray!
That, and we are officially in love with Daniel’s reflux medication. Significantly less of the painful/frustrated-sounding grunting and nighttime fussing. Oh sure, he still fusses, being a baby and all. But the whole house has noticed an improvement. Including Rebecca, who seems inclined to take over her brother’s title. Señorita Fussy-Pants? Oh dear.