Boobie Banter

Having breastfed three babies beyond 12 months (all my own of course, although I could have made a comfortable living as a Wet Nurse), I might be considered a bit of a breastfeeding veteran by some, Master of Milk if you will, Conjurer of Colostrum. Each baby of mine has fed differently; my first a comfort sucker, my second the efficient feeder, my third my longest feeder loving his breast friend until bed bound with pregnancy complications with our fourth it became apparent to both of us our breastfeeding journey together was over. Feeding my fourth, a 26 weeker tiny premmie was again completely different.

Being a NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) mum takes the milking demands to a whole other level. Being hand expressed the day after surgery, my lactation consultant and I, in my drugged up delirium, both excited by the 3mLs I produced isn’t exactly the dream start to breastfeeding any baby. But circumstance dictated that this is how it was to be until my baby was finally big enough to suckle at the breast. Of course it didn’t mean I was taking my lactation consultant home with me to hand express milk three hourly whilst I watched tv, slept and tried to recover from surgery. Once I had enough strength I took over milking duties in full. After hand expressing and using the hospital pump myself, pretending during the demo to know what a flange is, I was welcomed home with my very own pump and pumping station.

Instead of a bassinet filled with cuddly love I had an expressing machine at my bedside and a container of Milton steriliser and pump parts, as well as a stack of plastic cups ready to be filled. I carefully set pumping alarms, noted each expression session and charted the amounts I produced. I delicately timed any and all outings around my next expression session. When out I tried to avoid mums with babies and white t.shirts, any hint of a baby cry and my breast wept an offering of milk. But the day came when I needed to be at hospital more than a few hours and so I was forced to chose between exploding breasts, possibly affecting my well earned milk supply and using the milking room in NICU.

Braving public pumping I knocked on the door and quietly entered the room. Mums turned and nodded as they held pumps to their breasts. We were all here for the same reason, we all needed to make milk for our NICU babies. Finding an empty seat, table and machine I quickly attached the parts and hooked myself up to not one but two machines. This might seem greedy but I am incredibly time poor; as a mum of four this comes with the territory. Throw in limited access to babysitting and needing to visit my littlest in hospital around school runs and I had less time than ever. And whilst my machine at home is a double pump, the hospital ones were only single pumps and frankly I didn’t have the time for single pumping. I have considered speeding up the milking process by increasing the suction, but after seeing how far my nipples stretch on level 4 I am left wondering what the fuck level 12 does? Does it give you permanently erect nipples? Or suck your nipples through the duck valve, is that wen you hear a quack? Is that why it’s called a duck valve? So I shy away from this option. I fear there will be no going back if I tempt above level 10.

So there I was, t.shirt held up in my mouth to gain access to my boobs, both hands holding the bottles and flange against my breasts, using my elbows to adjust the speed and suction. Now if you have ever expressed you will know the part where the nipple goes is clear, in fact the whole milk catching contraption is see through. So then I am left to wonder if this is what it’s like in a men’s room, eye contact only, or avoid eye contact? I can’t remember which one the movies seem to manifest to be protocol, I’ll have to ask husband about this later. But I assume no chit chat with other mums, no boobie banter? I mean it would be weird to say “Oh I see your right breast produces more milk than your left, mmm, mine too!” Because whilst watching the great boobie race at home is fine for my Miss 5 to commentate, maybe not so much in the milking room. But then I hear some voices, no I am not crazy, some of the mums are talking, about topics I am familiar with. I politely interject and voila I am now immersed in conversation about CPAP, TPN and the like and whilst I don’t know what these acronyms stand for, I know what they mean, we all do as we share this NICU experience.

I finish pumping and begin to hand express the last of the milk as I have been taught. I try to hide the milk spray I make as I attempt to aim my milk flow into a small plastic cup. Again I wonder if this isn’t at least slightly like what happens in the men’s room, a different appendage of course. Then I pen in my milk diary my efforts and label my milk and wash up all my expression session bits and pieces ready for the next pump.

Eight weeks on and our baby is finally learning to breastfeed. I nurse her whilst my expressed breast milk is fed into her tummy via a nasogastric tube. She is associating feeling full with being at the breast and we have even had a few real sucks along with the many practice or non nutritive ones. I still pump at hospital sometimes, but I am a lot more efficient now and even take in my own double pump. I have even managed to work out how to hold both bottles in one hand so I am free to read whilst I pump. With a chest freezer full of frozen milk, I still sit in my bed expressing milk for my baby whom we hope will come home soon. Master 22 months watches and claims “My milk” as he waits for me to fill the cup. I happily off load some milk in his sippy cup knowing our freezer has long ago reached capacity, and if you visit for coffee be sure to specify cows milk if that’s your preference. It certainly isn’t the expected introduction to breastfeeding a baby but the end result will be the same. I know my hard work, my nightly wakings will all pay off when my littlest is on full suck feeds at the breast.