15oz

That is the entirety of the backup breast milk I have in my freezer.
2.5 bottles for Peanut.

During the past month, I have been forced to go through a process of
letting go.  grieving the beginning of the end of my time
breastfeeding my not-so-little baby.  for unidentified reasons, my
supply took a nosedive during the month of  November, and despite my
efforts to give it a boost (fenugreek capsules, tea, oatmeal, water)
the daily milk i am producing has not increased.  In the meantime, i
flew through my entire freezer stash of backup milk just trying to
keep up.  now just the few sacred packets remain.

For a while, I was in denial.  I pumped a measly few ounces at each
session and cheerfully dipped into the freezer stash, day after day,
as I prepared bottles for daycare.  And then one day, as i struggled
yet again to get even a few ounces from a pumping session, it hit me.
I came home from work that night, held Peanut in my arms, an sobbed
and sobbed as I rocked her to sleep, mourning the anticipated loss of
our breastfeeding relationship. I reached out to my former lactation
consultant, who assured me that a dip at 10 months was normal.  "Your
body is preparing to make another baby," she said.  "Ha," I thought.
Clearly my brain hasn't passed on the message that I am nowhere near
mentally ready to go down that road again.

The one fact for which I was grateful was that I was to make it to
Peanut's 11th month (a week ago) before having to begin supplementing.
 Crossing that milestone was important to me.  Many parents who choose
to wean their babies by their first birthday begin doing so at that
time, so I mentally felt more like it was a "choice" to introduce
cow's milk to Peanut, rather than a necessity, which it now is.  After
taking with the pediatrician, we decided to use cow's milk instead of
formula, since she is now only a few weeks away from her first
birthday (when it is generally considered acceptable for babies to
fully transition off of breastmilk or formula to cow's milk).

So this past week, I put an ounce of cow's milk into Zia's bottles.
And then a little more.  And she has taken to it well.  There is
something about the experience of opening a carton of milk from the
fridge- a full box of cold, white liquid, that had been simultaneously
odd and freeing.  It is a weird physical sensation to just be able to
pour milk into a bottle.  As much as I want is available to me, just
right there in the fridge.  After having spent nearly a year obsessing
about and measuring and counting and planning how many ounces of
breastmilk I can pour into a bottle, let me just say, it's weird to
just have access to tons of free flowing stuff.

And at the same time, I feel relief.  I see a light at the end of a
tunnel of hard work, the opportunity to get through a whole work day,
or go to bed, without having to pump.

And then I started experiencing anxiety again.  There were nights when
even during nursing, I didn't have enough milk for peanut.  She would
cry out of frustration, of  experiencing an insatiable thirst.
Watching her try to extract just a few more drops was heart wrenching,
and I couldn't bring myself to just offer her cow's milk from a
bottle.  It just didn't feel right given that she hasn't hit the one
year mark yet.  So the day before Christmas, I went out and bought a
canister of formula.  I offered her a few ounces at home, and again,
she took to it readily.

Again, I felt a huge degree of relief.  A nutritious backup option is
available to me, and in an abundance I haven't known now for several
months.  If I'm not making enough on a given day, I can just go make
some.  It makes me suddenly have perspective on how much pressure I've
been holding in my body around providing enough milk for little P.

Snow Outing

Dear Peanut,

Someday, when you are grown, I will tell you stories about how I pushed your stroller five miles uphill in several feet of snow to take you to daycare.

In reality, it was only a half mile and a half inch, but boy, was it a doozy of a walk.  Still, seeing you bundled up with oversized mittens, hearing your sweet singing as we slipped and slid down Main Street, and imagining what you might be thinking about the buckets of white stuff falling from the sky, I couldn't help but feel lucky to experience an urban winter wonderland with you.

Love,
Your Mama