The Pump and I

As soon as we arrived at the NICU, my grueling regimen of pumping began. I had to pump rather than put the babies to breast because the babies were too weak to get adequate feedings. I had pumped a few times at Hastings Hospital, but I was so groggy and loopy that I really didn't form a pattern. When I arrived at the NICU, the nurses strongly encouraged me to pump, pump, pump like a mad woman if I was going to get a full supply enough for twins. I don't think I had ever even heard of a pump before. I definitely didn't think I'd ever use one. But I pumped. Ten times a day, I pumped. All around the clock, I pumped.  I set my phone alarm for every two hours and I sat on the couch behind the privacy curtain in Ethan's room (where the pump was more conveniently located). Those first two weeks are a blur for me. One of the nurses told me that getting adequate rest was better for milk production, so I took her advice and started sleeping for 4 hours at a time during the night. That helped clear my head a little. I can't explain the worry I felt over having enough milk for them. They were taking it down as fast as I could pump it. "Try to relax. It helps with production," another nurse advised. Thank goodness for those nurses. I was learning so much from all of them. What would I have done if the doctor had just said, "Here are your twins. Go home and good luck." A curse and a blessing, being in the NICU. I had mixed emotions about being in the NICU and about pumping. On one hand, I felt needed and valuable. I am the only one who can provide this necessity. There is only one thing that I alone can do for them as their mother in this NICU, and it's pump. Thank goodness I am able to do something. On the other hand, I felt like I was missing out on time with the babies, a few feedings during the day, most at night. I was pumping while nurses took care of my babies. It's kind of funny how I was working so hard, so dedicated to them, but at the same time I felt lazy...like the nurses might be judging me. What if the babies think these nurses are their mommies? But I stuck with it.

When we took the babies home, I tried to switch to breast feeding, but it was very demanding. They wanted it more frequently than when we bottle fed and I wasn't sure how much they were getting. I continued to pump instead. I put them to breast occasionally because I liked the bond and it seemed to soothe them between feedings. I finally stopped pumping after 11 months, and when I did, I felt a little sad but very relieved from the strict routine. The babies continued on formula until they were 15 months old.

And so the long road of a love/hate relationship was over:

Me and the pump, the pump and I.