Almost Crying Over Spilled Milk
For some, milk production is second nature. It's like gas production; it just sort of happens and you deal with it. For others (of which I am one), milk production doesn't quite keep up with demand on most days, so the resource is sort of like gold (read: really valuable), which is why the sight of wasted boob juice is about as pleasant as watching brand new $100 bills get shredded and tossed.
Tonight, my "stockpile" of breast milk was going to be used to soothe and coax a potentially-fussy Baby Loquacious back to a deep and peaceful slumber during the middle of the night. However, we totally misread her cues (a theme that may be recurrent on this blog and in this life) and warmed that precious bottle of booby goodness before we had established that she was actually awake enough to want it. She...wasn't. In fact, she was so fast asleep that teasing her with drops of it caused zero reaction. Nada, nil, nothing. Immediately my brain flashed back to all of the precious minutes I spent pumping every single beautiful drop of creamy white nutrition. I nearly cried.
In the end, we went the jerk route. We did something that we normally would not do at 3:15 in the morning: we actually roused her from sleep (by placing her on the change table and starting to strip her down) in order to get her awake enough to feed. I'm still feeling like a class 1 jerk right now, but at least every single drop of breast milk made it down Baby Loquacious' throat and will help her body grow strong and healthy. Right?
Tonight, my "stockpile" of breast milk was going to be used to soothe and coax a potentially-fussy Baby Loquacious back to a deep and peaceful slumber during the middle of the night. However, we totally misread her cues (a theme that may be recurrent on this blog and in this life) and warmed that precious bottle of booby goodness before we had established that she was actually awake enough to want it. She...wasn't. In fact, she was so fast asleep that teasing her with drops of it caused zero reaction. Nada, nil, nothing. Immediately my brain flashed back to all of the precious minutes I spent pumping every single beautiful drop of creamy white nutrition. I nearly cried.
In the end, we went the jerk route. We did something that we normally would not do at 3:15 in the morning: we actually roused her from sleep (by placing her on the change table and starting to strip her down) in order to get her awake enough to feed. I'm still feeling like a class 1 jerk right now, but at least every single drop of breast milk made it down Baby Loquacious' throat and will help her body grow strong and healthy. Right?
Comments