Formula for a Happy Mason

Helloooooo nursing! If you can do it, nursing's great. I've been fortunate enough to be able to nurse both my babies for the better part of their first year - Teagan until a few weeks past one and then Mason. Mason, Mason, Mason. In the beginning it came really easily to both of us. He latched immediately on one side and continue to favour that side for as long as I nursed him and was really good at it for a while. 

There was the little issue of spitting up. Okay, "spitting up" is a polite way of describing when babies dribble a little and you wipe their mouths with a small cloth. Mason didn't spit up. Mason EXPLODED. Daily. Several times daily. It was maddening. I can still remember the feeling of hot liquid careening down my shirt and soaking through the layers I was wearing. Trying to navigate the stairs without dripping, because it had made it onto my pants as well. Showering numerous times a day and still smelling like baby vomit. The endless dance of rinsing and washing and drying, both of us getting down to the last thing in our wardrobes that fit us. Looking for some sort of a sign that it was about to happen and we came up with the FIRESWAMP Theory covered HERE involving a few clicks and gags, giving you a millisecond's warning he was about to erupt. 

 

Beyond the mess, I was concerned that he wasn't getting enough nutrition, since everything in his wee body seemed to come up. Several friends suggested I give up milk, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions, especially since I enjoy dairy so much and wasn't convinced that was the problem. His pediatrician assured me he was growing and it wasn't affecting his development, he was merely overeating and needed to be regulated a little. He's ours, after all. So we pressed on and celebrated the small victories.

As he got older, the "spit up" slowed, but he would nurse for a few minutes and get distracted and do anything besides eat. With an active toddler, I couldn't spend an hour trying to convince him he needed to eat and only actually nursing for a few minutes. My supply seemed to dwindle a bit as well, because the demand wasn't there. I hadn't intended to wean him completely when Brandon and I spent a weekend without the kids, but circumstances (ahem, me forgetting a power source for my pump and not having the time to collect enough breastmilk in advance) sped things along and forced Brenda to mostly feed him with formula over that weekend at the end of August. He slept through the night for the first time in my memory and from then on, it seemed like a steady diet of formula and meat was the formula for a happy Mason. We'd had a good run, and this just seemed to work better for all of us and I'm grateful to my in-laws for helping us provide him with all the formula he needs - speaking of, it was nice to have a specific recommendation of ounces from the doctor, rather than an amount of time spent at the breast, which never seemed to amount to much for us.
As he approaches a year, I feel like this was the best solution for us and the little man has thrived. He got the best of both and we are now enjoying the freedom that comes from formula. Especially now that he his holding his own bottle. Putting him down for a nap with a bottle at 10 months was so liberating! He was eating more because I wasn't watching and waiting and growing impatient. He was finishing bottles and getting more than the recommended amount and - get this - keeping it down!

Gestures of love change over time, and more than flowers (which I don't especially love) or even chocolate at this point (I know!) I love that Brandon sets a fresh bottle outside Mason's door before he leaves for his 12 hour work day. This means that I don't have to get dressed to go downstairs and squint through sleepy eyes to get the proportions correct and it buys me at least 15 minutes of extra rest each morning. He will yell at me when he wakes up, I open the door just enough to extend my arm to the crib (I don't even let him see me) and he reaches out to take the bottle and we are good until it's finished. It's a beautiful way to ease me into the day - not a morning person - especially when neither of us smells like old milk.