Breastfeeding Part 20: in which the 8 month old get his first bottle
The girls were slightly grouchy, bit me more often, and then POP! a tooth. We didn’t even use teething gel until they cut their first molars. I kind of snorted at everyone who drugged the mess out of their kids on everything from pain meds to teething tablets to amber necklaces.
Confession: I’ve been doing a drug cocktail with the boy for 48 hours… and now I ordered an amber necklace.
Apparently his teeth hurt so bad that I’m experiencing my first nursing strike. Wednesday he didn’t eat from 1 until 9pm (to be fair… he was also recovering from the stomach flu). Thursday he didn’t eat from 3-9pm. Today was trending to be the same. I’d be fine with that… but he screams pathetically for like 2 hours of that time, then cries himself to sleep, and then I wake him to nurse. All that screaming (and crawling after me where ever I go) is way more that I can handle (+ two year old twins).
Today required drastic measures. I borrowed a pump.
And the 8 month old got his first bottle.
I know he was relieved. And I sort of was. At least from the screaming.
But I was sad that he had to have a bottle at all. (Self-righteous humility-struggler that I am.) Oh, and I hate pumping. Hate it.
So I had a talk with the boy and said I’d only pump the dinner time feed for him… and help him through the other three with well-timed drowsy feeds (during which he will nurse).
But I do believe he liked that bottle… just… a… little… too… much.
Don’t you think?