Throughout my pregnancy, my husband and I did all of the
research into what would be best for our child. We researched, discussed, and
planned everything from the ideal birth plan, to breastfeeding for at least a
year, to the way we wanted to educate and discipline her when she got older.
Breastfeeding was one of the no-brainer decisions for us. His mother had
breastfed him until he was nearly 3 years old, so he was a great support from
the start—such an important thing to have when you’re a brand new mom! Much of
our fastidious planning went out the window though, when at 32 weeks along, my
blood pressure spiked to 187/110 due to preeclampsia. Thirty-three hours after
that spike, I delivered an 8 week early, 4.5lb baby girl who was whisked up to
the NICU before I could even touch her.
I was so ill after the delivery that I was kept downstairs
on Magnesium for three days before I was deemed healthy enough to go up to see Savannah
in the NICU for the first time. During those three days, I was lucky to have
lactation consultants come show me how to pump and how to hand express milk—I
was desperate to still be able to stick with this one plan of breastfeeding,
especially because she was so early. I had read how important breastmilk is to
preemies and needed to give that to her. In the beginning, my body had other
ideas. It wasn’t ready to produce milk yet, because she had been born so early
and despite pumping in 20 minute intervals round the clock, I was lucky to get
2mls per session. I vividly remember the conversation with the NICU doctors
when they told me that I needed to start getting the 6mls that Savannah needed
per feeding within the next 24 hours or they would need to start supplementing
her with formula. Shortly after that talk, I found myself sitting on my couch
after pumping for 40 minutes and only having 5ml—I was sweaty and crying and
desperate to get one more ml into my plastic spoon. It was awful. Somehow, as
if by magic, the next day was better, ounces better, when all of a sudden my
milk came in. All of those alarms going off every two hours to remind me to
pump finally paid off and I was suddenly the mom on the NICU ward whose milk
was being sent to the freezer—I had so much and she was still only taking 8ml
per feeding!
When she was one week old, the doctors let me try to feed
her at the breast for the first time. The lactation consultants were there to
help and when I finally got her to latch I felt like such a maternal badass!
My how we progressed from those first days and weeks through
our breastfeeding relationship! It was such a natural thing for us after those
first times with all of her tubes and wires in the way—when we finally go to
bring her home it was easy for us. I was still so worried about my supply,
because of how hard I had worked in those first days for nothing that I
continued to pump after every feeding. All those pumping sessions allowed me to
fill a freezer with milk that gave her dad the opportunity to feed her every
evening when he got home from work—and on magical weekend mornings so I could
sleep in.
That full freezer also allowed me to give back to other NICU
babies whose moms were struggling to get those few precious drops of milk for
their babes. Over 14 months, I donated 500 ounces to the Mothers’ Milk Bank of
North Texas to preemies in need. I also got to gift two dear friends with milk
to supplement when their supplies were low.
As Savannah progressed into a very fat baby with no signs of
her small birthweight, and breastfeeding became second nature to us, I started
to think back to my body before baby. Before getting pregnant, I had been a
nationally ranked competitive bodybuilder. My post-baby body was miles away
from where I had been pre-baby. When Savannah was about 8 months old, I began
training from my first post-baby competition. I was still sure that I wanted to
breastfeed past the one-year mark so I was very careful with how I chose to
manipulate my diet and training. I met with Allison for these photos when
Savannah was 12 months old and I was one month away from my competition. And at
the 13 month mark, I stepped on stage again and walked away in 13th
place. I stepped offstage and was greeted by my hungry 13-month-old and nursed
her backstage. It was such a rewarding feeling for me to be able to reach my
goals as a mother while also reaching my personal goals for my body.
Shortly after that competition, Savannah started to lose
interest in nursing—she was more curious about the world around her, and we
weaned slowly with our last feeding on her 14 month birthday. She’s now a
smart, joyful two-year-old, who loves all things princess, makeup, and
accessories, and wants nothing to do with snuggling her mommy—good thing I got
all of those snuggle sessions for 14 months!
Just last week, I was reminded of the impact breastfeeding
had on her when we were talking about farm animals at the dinner table one
night. I asked her, as she took a sip of milk, which farm animal makes her milk
and she responded with a giggle and “You silly mommy! Milk comes from mommies!”
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