Monday, April 04, 2005

Another disappointing visit to the lactation consultant today. The Fry only gained about 2.5 oz. this week. The minimum pediatricians like to see is something like 3.5 (average of 7). So bottomline... he's still not getting enough milk. And we're back to supplementing. I'm hoping it's a short term set back due to my illness this week (oh, and a clogged milk duct before that) but we'll see. Since we've reached the maximum dose of Fenugreek & Blessed Thistle without seeing enough benefit the next step is to consider prescription drugs. The preference of the l.c. is Domperidone which, unfortunately was recently banned in the U.S. by the FDA due to complications with its intravenous use in very sick patients. The lactation world however reports no such side effects when taken orally by bf-ing mothers. But tell the FDA that. Apparently you can still get it from compounding pharmacies or from overseas, however. The only FDA approved alternative is Reglan, which has known side effects in bf-ing women of severe depression and fatigue. I need any more of either right now about as much as I need another hole in the head. But I'm thinking of asking my OB at my 3 week check up tomorow to prescribe some anti-depressants, so that could offset the potential side effects of the Reglan should we decide to go that route. Anyway. Next l.c. appointment & weigh in is Friday and we'll decide then... after discussing with the pediatrician and O.B. In the meantime...... more nursing and pumping; pumping and nursing.

Moo.

I know I shouldn't feel so bovine for dedicating myself to such a 'noble and worthy' cause, but I can't help it. I'm used to contributing to society (& the wellbeing of my family) mentally, not physically. And especially not by having something (whether infantile or mechanical) suck on the end of my tit for 8+ hours a day. It's a fulltime job and unfortunately, feeling that way. Not wonderous and joyful.... enforced and obligatory. And I know that's affecting my bonding with the Fry, which in turn feeds the depression. I don't like seeing him as a chore. I just want to bask in his incredibly alert & wide eyes, stroke his incredibly soft hair, kiss his little feet and snuggle up for some good long naps.

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