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?