I'm sitting up after I've promised myself twice that I really truly was going to bed right away. This, after knowing that tomorrow will be starting earlier than usual, end later than I want it to, and be filled with running around two towns, a military base, and Toddler-tickling. Because, you know, it's just so much fun to tickle little toddlers. Especially when they laugh, make lots of eye contact, and use their words to initiate even more of the playing.

With all this knowledge of tomorrow, why am I still awake? Sand Tart Cookies. It's my mom's recipe, I don't know where it originates or how long it's been around, but my mom has made these for me since I was a toddler myself and they're striking a hit with the next generation. I sit up tonight stuffing as many as I feel I can get away with into my tummy because tomorrow morning there will be no more left. Because every time I sit down with one of these in front of my daughter she cruises by and deftly plucks it from my hand.

She's definately mine. No baby-switching here. Big smile on my face as I think about that. The more I see this things of mine in her, the more I love her. I didn't think that was possible, to love her more than I already do. When I think back to the hard first years of her life, and how hard it still is sometimes, I am amazed at how far we have come. She's better at initiating contact with me. I'm better at reaching back out to her when my depression threatens to get the better of me.

Those commercials abotu how depression hurts? I've lived them. I can't stand to watch those commercials on tv these days because I know how close I skate to them, from time to time. Right now I skate again. This NICU thing. It's getting to me despite my positive spinning of things for the greater public. I try to seem hopeful, I try to talk up the side of how things should go and need to be. Believe me, that doesn't mean I ignore the reality of it.

Reality is what it is. All the hopefulness in the world is not going to change that. I just feel that if I admit defeat in my outloud voice at any point yet it will seal the deal. I don't want to give up just yet. So I'm taking things fifteen minutes at a time. Which brings to mind another post that I've been meaning to write. I'll let you know when that post lets me know what it needs to say.

Moo.

The quest for breastfeeding is not an easy one around here. Best intentions, right? The reality of it is that, for me, supply is likely to be a constant worry even as we get further down the road. I guess the biggest barrier is that I need to try to get a certain amount of sleep every night so that I can keep up with the demands of the family and not have a sobbing emotional moment at the tail end of the day. To do that, I can't be up in the middle of the night pumping every 2 hours. The Toddler's schedule means that I can't pump regularly at set times during the day either; I catch it on the fly. And so reality keeps creeping in to my best intentions.

Right now I'm stalled out at just under a quarter ounce every time I pump. Except for first thing in the morning when it's nearly a whole half ounce. With this sort of output I should open a dairy, right? Maybe a micro-dairy. Specializing in the finest of preemie milk. Formulated especially for my newborn micropreemie and his needs to help him grow into the biggest and best that he's capable of. Added benefits are an increased immune system, and a lessened chance of catching a nasty bacterial infection in his intestinal tract.

The latest and greatest protocol I've come across is a pump and rest (and pump and rest) method. I think it's supposed to simulate a newborn cluster feeding, but I don't know. I'm trying it for the next few days or as long as I can stand it, because I'll try just about anything if I don't have to force myself awake in the middle of the night to be milked. Pump for ten minutes, rest for ten, pump for ten... do this for four pumps and rests, then repeat in 2-3 hours.

It's only been three sessions of this so far, and I think I'm seeing a slight improvement. Instead of a bare quarter ounce as normally achieved at this time of night, I got a full just-over quarter ounce. Those little drips just kept coming along. Very encouraging. So is the recurral of my intermittant insomnia. Hey, isn't the trick learning how to make your challenges work for you instead of defeating you?

The pumping of milk, it does not go smoothly today. I know, realistically, that the milk supply at the end of the day is not the bountiful supply that comes at the beginning when you're all rested and cozy in a full night's sleep. At least, that's a full night for me. I choose to sleep through rather than get up and pump twice because I get little enough as it is already. (Back to the original topic) but really, going from my measly almost one ounce at wakeup to a bare covering for the bottom of the container for nighttime? That's like adding insult to injury here.

Among the many other decent and medically sound reasons I'm pumping is to save money down the road. I'd do it if only because it will give my Robbie a better chance to stay healthy in the NICU. The part where the preemie formulas cost almost 20 bucks for a 12.8 ounce can of powdered formula is not an insignificant factor in wanting to give the breastfeeding my best shot now. So you see when the emotional piece comes in, when I look at many other mothers and the Breast Police who all insist that this is a piece of cake and that every woman's body is fully capable of producing enough to feed their infant- it makes me want to cry. Two weeks in and I'm trying to pump fenugreek and blessed thistle into my body with as much water as I can remember to drink and pray that it will kick something loose in there. I'm trying. When I cry to the Boy about it he leaps to my defense. Among many things said to me the first night Robbie was born was that he fully supported whatever decision I came to about this. He saw what I went through with the Toddler. He saw the endless pumping and drinking and supplements and the tears when I'd fall into bed exhausted because there was just nothing more in there to give. When the nurses at the NICU ask you every day for more milk because they keep running out, I felt like a bad, neglectful mother because I could not produce any more. The LCs and nurses told me for weeks that the supply would come, that it would eventually come, that one day it would step up. It never did. Combined with the Toddler's refusal to latch and I gave up in a mess of tears and guilt because the milk? There was no more milk. There was one bottle of pumped milk for every two or three of formula, maybe a half ounce for every feeding that I could give her. I gave her every drop I had.

For Robbie? I'll do the same. I'll keep praying for a miracle with milk this time around. I think I may stand a chance. I hope so. I'll hope for anything at this point.

It may not be the most economic idea, but what I like to do when pumping breastmilk for the freezer is to pour it into the disposable nurser bags. They're fairly cheap- 150 in a box for 3 dollars. I then roll the top down tightly, fasten with an address label, and then place inside a larger freezer ziptop bag for storage in the freezer. I can get away with this easily because I don't produce a lot of milk. Maybe one ounce, combined, if all the stars and heavens are in alignment and there's a blue moon.

Hopefully this will change. I'm eating well, drinking lots, taking fenugreek to try and up the supply, and emptying my breasts completely when I pump (frequently). I try not to obsess too much over supply. I realize that's a lost cause because I'll obsess about something and this is custom-made to all my obsession tendencies.

Another day, another pumping session, and another washcloth in my bra. That portion of the current experiment in thriftiness is, at least, going very well.

I'm taking an unexpected twist on frugality this week. Since I'm pumping breastmilk for Robbie, and since he can't use all I pump right now, I'm starting to squirrel away the extra bits that I won't be able to use up at the NICU in our freezer here at home. This serves several purposes. Not only does it give me a wall-o-breastmilk in the freezer to use if the Boy and I ever go out for an afternoon, not only does this give us a laid in supply of the best food for strengthening his immunities, but when my supply eventually tapers out and falls by the wayside I've got something extra to fortify the formula with and help it stretch just a little bit further.

Does that sound too much like I'm giving up on the supply issue early? Believe me, I don't want the supply to dry out like it did for the Toddler. I'm just trying to realistically prepare for that day. Just like I didn't want a 29week preemie, but I prepared for it in the back of my head and now the Boy and I are coping relatively well. I say that. I hope it's true. I mean, I am not the emotional wreck I was last time. I'm about as prepared as it's possible for me to be. I'm thinking... that can only be good.

This is my new little Robbie. He weighed 1lb 3oz when he was born last week. Good news is that he was delivered before suffering any distress in utero, and that means an excellant chance of doing just fine. For the moment he's in an isolette at a facility about an hour's drive away from me. He's safer there. My body was not a good place for him by the end of the pregnancy. Now money's going to be tighter than ever, so keep on reading for new and more interesting ways that I'm saving a buck. And possibly ways to also save my sanity.