Back from a break

By Wednesday of last week I had become concerned. My body was showing signs of distress and I worried my bowels had completely shut down. Jason suggested I try to eat something to help things along, “You haven’t eaten anything substantial in over two weeks, I think you need solid food in order to get things moving again.” On Friday my doctor prescribed MiraLax.

I began to fret that if my bowels had indeed stopped working, it might impact my breast milk. Oh, the stress! On Thursday I ate some snap peas as they were calling me from the produce isle. No change. I broke down and had a sausage patty on Friday morning. Patrick suffered after that.

Now, part of getting back into eating from an elimination diets is to eat smart. You only eat food that is as close to its natural state as possible (i.e. raw veggies, plan meat, whole fruits). I know that. But, try telling that to a stomach that has had to smell sausage cooking all week! The moment my brain told the rest of my body that we were eating, my stomach demanded, “WE ARE EATING SAUSAGE!”

This isn’t your run of the mill sausage, mind you. This is fresh from your packing house sausage. No preservatives or fillers, only real meat and spices mixed together to make an amazing breakfast treat. I figured I was safe. Not so much.

So, Patrick’s stool changed back to green and his tummy was obviously upset. Way to go Mom! Now, you have Momma guilt to top off your breakfast! I continued to eat formula the rest of the day but nothing in Patrick really changed. When my doctor finally got back to me, apparently he has been busy, he prescribed a laxative.

With everything that Patrick was going through, I wasn’t going to add on to it the potential side effects of taking something to make me go. He goes enough! So, on Saturday I took my meds like the doctor ordered and had me a day of eating real food all day long. I figured if I was off breastfeeding for the day, I might as well enjoy it.

I started off my day with pancakes, but no sausage since we had run out and the rest was frozen solid. For lunch I had one brat topped with sauerkraut and fries and a beer. I was stuffed. Jason laughed and pointed out that my stomach had probably shrunk. No doubt. No dinner for me, there was simply no room!

Now, had I been doing this the right way, I might have started with some broth and worked my way up to some bland chicken and rice. Well, if you don’t know by now, I don’t do things like other normal people, I am a bit crazy. So, I jump right in and enjoy the hell out of my splurge day, as we used to call them.

Thankfully, I didn’t have any ill effects, and Patrick was recovering - thanks to my supply of frozen breast milk. Then Sunday morning came, and surprisingly, I actually craved formula! Silly me, I thought I could put my splurge day behind me and move forward. That was until lunchtime. Oh man, I wanted to eat leftovers so bad! Off with my formula I went to pout in the corner. Oh, this is tough.

I continued to feed Patrick stored breast milk and pump to maintain my supply. For the record, that is such a pain in my *&^! Some days I just want to stop. Around 2:00 p.m., I began to seriously consider quitting. I ran out of stored milk and gave Patrick straight formula. I could tell he wasn’t happy, but he ate it anyway.

About fifteen minutes later he spit up. This wasn’t his usual spit up, it was a thick, mucousy type spit up. I had never seen this and I became a bit alarmed. I quickly looked up on the Internet and the most reputable site (it had sources) explained it was related to GERD. I had that word…GERD. But, it went on to explain that GERD can be remedied best by breastfeeding.

Can I hear an AMEN?? It was as if the spirit world sensed I was buckling under the pressure and needed to give me a boost of guilt to keep me going. I mean, how I can let my boy suffer with GERD when studies proved that breastfeeding naturally alleviates symptoms!

So, after 24 hours had passed since my last real food meal, I went ahead and gave Patrick the boob. Funny, I can tell such a difference. He really enjoys breastfeeding; it is a struggle to get him to finish a bottle. I am rewarded with no spit up.

I finish writing this post with Patrick passed out from being milk drunk on my lap. I love that about breastfeeding. Prop that Boppy on my lap and he sucks away while I can type. Can’t do that when you are holding a bottle! Oh, the reasons just keep piling up.

On a good note, I am back to my ‘ol self again and feeling great. Now, to fix me a drink, of formula that is…