More Tales From Breastfeeding Bootcamp. Or Something.

There’s something to be said about starting your day before dawn. I haven’t done it in a long time, and forgot that it’s probably a better idea than repeatedly trying to go back to sleep.

I read online that you could “train” your body not to require to be milked every 4 hours, and figured pumping in the middle of the night and handling graveyard shift night feeds was just too much (because I suck at sleeping – have never been an easy sleeper and during the early dealing room days would swig vodka thinking I would “sleep better” – Uh, it’s called drunken stupor, not sleep, and I stopped after my stomach began waving banners and slogans in protest).

So anyway from the very start I would pump out every last drop of my milk before I slept, then do the same about 8 hours later. (By the time I woke and laid out Rockstar’s breakfast and clothes for the day). I’d also wanted a glass of wine and/or to be able to take cold meds if ever the occasion arose in future. So I would have my wine or any fictitious meds right after my last pump. That actually worked out surprisingly well, I would pump 8-9 ounces (about 240-270ml) the next day after not having to get up at night. (Got approval from my gynea and everything – the very occasional flu med or sleep aid (and I take maybe a quarter the regular dose) is apparently ok, but she often cautions about caffeine  giving you a wired baby <shudder>.)

I'd normally be sitting right in front of her pumping if I wasn't taking that picture

As I settle in the dawn-dark with my pump however, my privacy is intruded upon by a wagging tail. Before 5am when you expected alone time but instead discover the unexpected pushiness of a family member who is not in need of a bottle feed or change of clothes and smoothie or even a business email correspondence to be vetted, what you feel is resentment.

Source Of My Resentment (Resentment for short) is now lying on the floor staring at me, not taking no for an answer. There is a reason sheep, not the most perceptive of creatures, move it when these animals stare. She rolls over and paws the air, inviting – no, demanding – attention. She inches ever closer. And she will not accept a leg pressed in companionship against her side. She wants my hands rubbing her chest, fondling her ears. My hands, which I need to milk myself. Which I need clean because let’s face it Resentment bathes just once a week and has friends who eat garbage.

In that instance I can understand why people send their dogs away when the babies get here. HANG ON – I’d never do it, but – some days you’re just COME ON. I’m barely holding it together (by which I mean being Life Is Wonderful instead of Life Sucks), the dog gets 2 hour-long walks a day with our helper plus an additional walk with me several times a week – in fact when we could, we moved to one of the most dog-friendly neighborhoods in HK because the previous dog-friendly place was not dog-friendly enough, not to mention she gets her tennis ball kicked about the apartment a gadzillion times a day while we are all feeding, burping, debating either of our human children. (You’d think it’s harder to argue with someone who “NGEH”s everything but really, both of em have their own appeal.)

No King Cobras Do Not Need To Be As Big As Pythons <kick ball> To Be Dangerous And Do I Really Have To <kick ball> Google That OK The Preferred King Cobra Antivenom Is From The Tigersnake <kick ball kick ball>.

JD puts on her best Guilt-tripping Face. She's getting old though, isn't she - can see so many more white hairs than before

And yet there she is. Lying there demanding to be petted because she has identified that this is a moment she would not have to share with either of my other children. I kid you not. 9 years living with her, I know how this animal thinks.

Problem is they look so much like dogs you forget they are border collies. You know, the absolute best person to handle night feedings and diaper changes and arguments about whether sharks eat jellyfish in this house is the border collie. Why the hell do they still come with paws and a tail and friends who eat garbage? 

The bedroom door quietly opens. 6.30am. JD pads out after our helper for her morning walk, all supplications for preferential treatment forgotten.

Silence, except for the quiet whooshing of the breast pump.

Peace.

Why didn’t JD go out 15 mins later, I’d have finished and could’ve given her the good scratch she wanted before she left.

I miss my dog.

Ps: After 2 months of this, in the last few days I then couldn’t even keep up 4 regular pumping sessions during the day while also running errands with Rockstar and handling Ms Rockstar so I’m a bit upset I now have to pump some 30-45 minutes longer for the missing 2 ounces… Girlfriend suggests Fenugreek from GNC and mother’s milk tea so I’m going to try that next….. And of course try to go back to the 4 regular pump sessions…