Uuuugh. What a frustrating morning. After six weeks of me pumping every 3-4 hours, Joel finally went on breastmilk yesterday. There wasn't enough stored up in the freezer here, so Adam got off work early to bring up some from Chehalis. By midnight, he was put back on portogen. His system still can't breakdown the fats in breastmilk, and they won't be trying it again. It's difficult to explain in a blog, but it's caused by the clots in his lymphatic system, and the effect is respiratory problems (which he already has a hard time with,)...there is no telling when the clotting will be cleared up, but it won't be soon. Dr. Harry said we could try in another 3-4 weeks, or when we're at home, but if things don't go well, we'll know because he'll start having respiratory issues. No thank you. Why force my kid to endure more setbacks to fulfill some "mommy need?" He's had his fair share of roadblocks WITHOUT my help.
Of all the things for me to be heartbroken over, this is so minor. I don't know why I'm so upset about it....I didn't give a crap about nursing the other two. I did my 6-8 weeks for both and said, "screw this!!!" It's something that has to do with my tubes being tied, knowing this is the last, and the one attempt I have to bond with this baby...little to no holding, little to no bathing, little to no physical contact,...and it was the one thing I felt like I could do to help him heal. You know, if nothing else, I could give him what I was made to give him; milk. My son is fine, and he has a good opportunity to improve this week, things are looking up...so why does it feel like I'm mourning?