Buddha Belly

Tonight Jason and I were laughing over Sydney's (not so) little Buddha belly while giving her a bath. It's adorable and perfect in all it's protruding roundness. I have the selfish pleasure in knowing that it's all because of me. I make the milk that nourishes her. I went through the sore nipples and the horrific engorgement those first couple weeks. I dealt with the sleepless nights from being her sole feeder. I couldn't leave her for more than two hours at a time for months. I spent many, many hours pumping milk I wasn't sure I was ever going to use. Syd has had no bottles, and no pacifiers. I did it for her. I did it for me.

I recently had a dip in my supply and my whole mommy world was turned upside down. I suddenly had to resort to offering Sydney formula one feeding when my frozen breast milk hadn't thawed and she was crying out of hunger. I actually cried over having to give her the formula. She refused it and instead went to sleep on an empty stomach. I called Jason demanding he go to the store that very instant to get me oatmeal and Powerade. I knew I couldn't make enough milk on Ramen noodles and water alone. We were saving our money from Jason's, um, break in employment. I could eat us out of house and home with the calories I need and I think he finally took me serious when he saw the bottle of formula sitting by the rocker.

So I cut out her solids and nursed frequently. I've been eating nonstop. Our fridge looks like a 7-Eleven with all the drinks we have in there. I've also been resting lots and napping when she naps. My milk is back. I will never again whine over the pain of engorgement. I welcome it. I want it. Breast feeding is a privilege, not a sacrifice. And while all the other moms I know are either done or in the process of weaning, I relish in our accomplishment.