I recently came across this article about breast milk donation, as well as some of the trickier ethical questions surrounding it. Ethics aside, the information specifically regarding Necrotizing Enterocolitis (NEC) was fascinating.
I just realized how inexplicably sad I am for a past version of myself. I look at the pictures of me pregnant and just think, “You. You have no idea.” I want a time turner or a TARDIS so I can go cross my own timeline and tell that version of myself that it is all going to be okay. Excruciating at times, but ultimately okay. I’d like a future version to come confirm that, come to think of it.
I owe everyone a long update, I know. For the most part no news is good news.
Rowan is still nursing with only one bottle per day. I may not have to pay cobra after all. He’s over 10 pounds!
I was going to write about how much better the day to day has gotten. But then I woke up this morning in extreme pain, followed by chills and a feverish feeling. I could feel the plugged duct causing the mastitis. I must have gotten it unplugged because when rowan nursed he was having to swallow so fast that I was scared he would choke. And then I pumped 3oz from that side alone. This morning I had the telltale red streaks radiating out.
Happy World Breastfeeding Week!
One of the hardest things for me during the last few months has been the total helplessness that I have felt. I don’t do helpless well. Yes, Rowan has made tremendous strides, but none of them felt like I was really a requirement. A team of OBs bought him that extra two weeks in utero, a team of neonatologists and nurses helped him thrive in the hospital. I have felt like a bystander through most of his first few months. It felt like everything was being done to us.
