I was as ready as one can be to welcome baby member 2( or 3.. read this to know why I cant decide the number). In the hospital, the nurses have a straight forward rule. More than 2 years have passed since baby number 1 was born? Then you get the coveted or dreaded, depending on your view of the world, title of new parent.

It’s pretty sound logic. Sufficient time has to pass for most of us to forget the trauma of sleepless nights, endless crying and never ending diaper changes to dare the adventure again. I had sufficiently, and successfully, distanced myself enough to realize I had not enjoyed those early days. Under statement of the decade really! I was utterly depressed during those early postpartum days, and I was ready to try to enjoy it more, armed with the knowledge that ‘This too shall pass. So, I didn’t fear the exhaustion, the C-section operation, the chaos of eventually returning to work while juggling my pre-schooler, my dog and a baby. I bravely also knew that I was giving up the time and headspace I needed for my writing to ensure baby number 1 had a life long support system and friend, which I am told comes with baby number 2.

The only blemish in my acceptance was the dread. The first time, you see, I did not have enough milk. Read this to know how it tore me apart. Baby number 1, one smile, one skill, one word and one loving or mad gesture at a time had put me back together. But the scar runs deep.

I read (thats my defense for everything) that each birth, the body is different. I didn’t want to hope, but deep deep down inside I wished for that miracle. Enough milk.

This is where the gory details start so if you want to skip the rest I can tell you its not a Disney extravaganza story ending but neither is it a greek tragedy. simply put… its probably… good old regular life.

Then the first miracle happened. My doctor gave me a handout describing how to hand empress colostrum. I pondered on it. There was actually something I could do while I waited for the birth of baby number 2. I’ll spare you the details of my assiduous trying each day and not getting any drops of the so called “liquid gold” to show up. Till one day it did. I was ecstatic and I collected those precious few drops in pretty looking tubes. Just, my advice, don’t use those. Colostrum is very thick and if all you have are drops, use cups instead so you can dip your finger to reach those coveted drops.

I now had my secret arsenal of weaponry to combat my own personal nemisis – new born weight loss. Well, baby arrives and I breast feed, armed with the certainty that my body has milk to offer. Plus I have some drops of stored milk. Can you image having extra? If you can, you probably aren’t like the rest of us with not enough milk!

Day of discharge and we are hovering around 9% weight loss. Yay we dodged the monster. A day or 2 later, the baby cries, cluster feeds, but mom is content. Then at the next check up baby is way under weight and dehydrated. We will need to supplement with formula after all, and pump to build supply. Not as awful as last time. Not every 2 hours, still every 3 hours is the schedule as per the doctor. And, it is clear, this time around, still not enough milk.

I am wise and more experienced this round. So how do I deal with the news? I immediately burst into inconsolable tears. A good cry is sometimes needed to deal with troubles and let no one tell you otherwise my fellow new mom. Anyway, after a good cry later I still didn’t reach my post-partum depression state, so thats good.

This time around, I didn’t and still do not eat things that apparently help with milk but taste bleh (read oats). I relied on supplements in tablet form. Liquid gold seems to work for me but to each her own. With another kid running around its impossible to stick to a strict schedule. I give myself the freedom to pump when I can but I would be lying if I said I didn’t get anxious every 3- 4 hour mark. I also find it better to use hand pumps but alternate with electric pumps. I ditched Medela, which I hated and would probably bring about PTSD, for Spectra. But my two finds this round is hand expression. Try it to empty your breast and also understand your anatomy. And the 2ⁿᵈ is Lansinoh hand pump. No, this is not sponsored article. I just trusted my instinct and picked a random pump on Amazon. I didn’t use it at first and one day I did. I sure am glad I did.

Early days I collected 10-20ml of milk. By 4 weeks I was at 30 ml or 1oz. That was my target. And now on good days I get 60ml or 2oz. For anyone unable to visualize what this means, its all in the range of the space between 2 creases of your finger. My baby drinks much more, but for me, this is more milk than last time.

I try a zen like approach. No meditation or staring at baby. I watch turkish dramas( I’ll review it soon!) or Brit Box murder mysteries. And zen or not, on bad days I still am dejected and good days secretly ecstatic. Most days are a mix of good and bad varying after each time I collect milk. At least I don’t dread pumping, and am happy and present for both my babies (and my dog).

As I approach my next pumping schedule, I leave you with words I tell my baby number 1, and wait for it to sink in sooner or later for him, you and my own self –  “You, be you“.

 AARWEN’S INDEX

 Good day for milk or bad? Am here to talk about it… or anything else that you like.