The hardest part about being sick was that I quite literally could not survive without taking pseudoephedrine for the painful and debilitating congestion I was experiencing. The result, of course, as a breastfeeding mother with a 6 month old, was that my milk supply tanked hardcore. I panicked at first. A lot. Like I always do when I get sick and my supply tanks. But usually I have milk in the freezer as a backup and life goes on and I zip through my backup and then build it back up. But this time, I had no backup supply because I just haven't been able to pump as much, despite pumping three times during the day and once at night. And have I mentioned?
I hate pumping. I hate it more than I hate baby corn, and that's a lot.
I'm so over pumping I can't even begin to tell you how over it I am. It chains you down in 15-20 minute increments throughout the day. And when you're sick, it's like the last thing that you want to be doing.
So I embraced my reality. I went to the store and I bought formula. It's a supplementing formula, actually, because I'm still nursing and still pumping and hopefully, at some point, my supply will boom again. But if it doesn't, I'm not crying about it. I'm over it. My baby has options, and that's what's important.
And then, on Sunday,
While breastfeeding an overly tired and cranky Tirzah in the Target Starbucks while Asher watched shows on my phone, a man with his wife and son packed up to leave. He came over to me and said, "Thank you for taking care of your child. So many don't." I was sort of stunned and couldn't figure out what he meant. It took a few seconds for me to realize he was referring to me nursing the baby.
So I think I'm okay.
