What I'll be doing this week...

Alternate Title:  The Great Nursing Strike of September.


My week is going to be AWESOME.


So I woke up yesterday and brought my Girl into bed for her morning nursey-nurse.  Just like we've done every day of her ENTIRE life.

Only she pushed me away.  She twisted out of my arm and cried.  And cried and cried and CRIED.

And me, being more stubborn than my children, I kept cramming her into my chest trying to get her to latch on...occasionally when she gets really worked up, I have to do this for her to realize that she's bein' all melodramatic for no reason.  But pushing her, cramming her, coaxing her...none of it worked.

She went to her Daddy and curled up and sucked her thumb and cried off and on, ALL morning long.  We tried various things, but to no avail.  Eventually, I sought relief in the pump and in a fit of frustration I threw the bottle full of milk at Chris.  He gave it to the girl, who promptly drained the entire thing dry without coming up for air.

And I burst into tears.

I called my sister, I kept trying various things, and then I just gave up and bought her some formula.  Sherry was perfect at reminding me that I'm not a mother to have things My Way, I'm a mother and my job is to learn to be flexible.  So I made her a little bottle and after she had her spinach and peas, I offered her the bottle.  She tried less than half an ounce and LOUDLY refused the rest of it.  So I gave up for the day and plopped her in the bath.

At that point I noticed the horrific, blotchy, red rash that was covering my daughter.

I should say, that I'm a much bigger idiot than any of you might already assume I am.  She's had poor reaction to dairy before (ice cream and yogurt, and yes, I've offered her those things, she's not my first kid, and my first kid was eating full cups of cow's milk yogurt at 6 months so I felt like it was fine...).  I knew that she was likely going to end up with a dairy allergy, and I didn't even think to read the ingredients on the Box o' Formula.  I just figure, they make it for BABIES.  She's a BABY.  It should be FINE.

Alas.  It was NOT Fine.

So I took pictures of the horrific rash, gave her another bottle of pumped breast milk and called it a night.  I was sincerely hoping that it was just a day, and that today would be BETTER.

Oh, it's not.  It's not better.  If anything, it might be worse.  Because she comes to me like she WANTS to nurse, but before she gets a good latch she turns away.  So I took myself down to the local women's birth and wellness and all things hippy and green boutique and rented a hospital grade pump for the week.

If we can't mediate a negotiated settlement by Friday I'm hauling her in to the doctor and I'm calling in the big guns.  Lactation Consultants, I'm talkin' to you.




In the meantime, pray for us sinners...