Menage a Monday: Featuring Deb, from Spawnocalypse

Hello readers! Welcome to Menage a Monday…brought to you by One Nerve Left, Rock and Drool, Spawnocalypse, BORED Mommy, and me! For the next few weeks, I’ll be lucky enough to share a favorite post by one of these lovely ladies. Enjoy!

Today’s post is from Deb at Spawnocalypse. You must already know Deb. If you don’t, what are you waiting for? Her blog is one of the first that I read regularly, and I’m hooked. You will be, too, once you see how real and down to Earth she is. You can find her on Twitter or fan her on Facebook, too.

Read on for one of Deb’s favorite posts (and mine, too!) from Spawnocalypse:

Giving the Breast my Best Shot

A breast vs. bottle sibling showdown

You see, I unintentionally entered my offspring into a bit of a science experiment. Gunnar became a bottle baby at the ripe age of 72 hours old, whereas Annalie stuck with the breast exclusively for five months and then weaned gradually.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, are their scores:

• Immunity: Gunnar was prescribed amoxicillin at least six times in his first year of life for ear and sinus infections. The next year, neither kid required antibiotics, most likely because our pharmacy was giving these drugs away for free during the 08-09 flu season.
• Bonding: It’s been well established here that Gunnar is more partial to Brian and Annalie is very close (kangaroo-and-joey close) to me. As parents, we’re mostly cool with this now, though we still get little pangs of “Why?” every now and then. But really, I don’t think it has anything to do with my boobs.
• Intelligence and development: Gunnar walked at 10 months and was on the early side with most of his gross motor skills; however, he didn’t get the pincher grasp down to pick up a Cheerio until around his first birthday. Annie started feeding herself finger foods and clapping her hands around seven months; her first steps were two days after she turned one. Annie’s currently building her vocabulary at about the same rate her brother did at the same age. So by my calculations, they both successfully sucked out whatever brain cells I had available at the time and are equally smarter than me.

Those are the biggies, right? Is there a way I can psychologically test them at home to determine who’s going to be described on the evening news in 20 years as someone “who always pretty much kept to themselves”? Is it a given that Gunnar will need braces and that Annie will become a vegan?

Oh yeah, breastfeeding is supposed to save money. Well, maybe a bit. But it sure wasn’t free. Annie became jaundiced a couple days after coming home from the hospital–more common in breastfed babies–and we stopped tallying the copays to keep getting her weight and bilirubin checked once we reached $100. Plus, Brian had to miss an hour or so of work for every visit, either to stay with Gunnar or take Annie to get weighed and phlebotomized.

Given my track record, I only invested $35 in a manual breast pump–which I used once before I dropped and broke it. The electronic upgrade was about $80. I think the special plastic bags in which to store the milk were around $6 for a couple-week supply. Then there were nursing bras and breast pads and Lanosil and shirts with trap doors. And cover-ups to conceal said trap doors (in theory, though it seems most of New England has seen at least one of my nipples). And every brand of every kind of bottle and non-Deb nipple in existence until we found one she’d accept–just days before I returned to work.

So, roughly, I’d say the girl ate for free for maybe two weeks before switching to $15 Target-brand formula. (Now they both drink regular milk, and I’m thinking of getting a cow, which could also help with the problem of finding time to mow the lawn.)

Jokes aside, I think I did what was best for each child–and for me, which should count for something–at the time. Gunnar was simply never content with breastmilk. His cluster feeding until the milk came in was almost unbearable as a brand new mom. When I finally offered 2 oz of an Enfamil I got in the mail–the exact reason breastfeeding Nazis want to do away with samples–he slept peacefully for the first time since fleeing the womb. At that moment, I felt more guilty for persisting and “ruining his first three days of life” (my exact words) than for depriving him of “the best start possible.”

My second-born was a completely different story. Even when I tried to give my annihilated nipples a break, she would have no part of a bottle. In some ways, nursing was more convenient, though I never became comfortable with trying to finagle the act in public–or even in front of immediate family in my own home, to be honest. Even though I did take her where I needed to go and did what I had to do, I did feel tied down. Part of it was what Brian alluded to in “Ghost hunting”; I was also pretty much the only person from which she’d accept comfort. She got a bit more tolerant of others after weaning.

Despite the drawbacks, I’m glad we had the success we did and would nurse again if we had more children (should science ever find a cure for colic, that is). The most profound and exhilarating part of the experience was watching my daughter grow–seeing her legs lengthen and her cheeks fill out (really fill out)–and thinking, “I did that.”

Related posts:

1. Menage a Monday: Featuring Lizz, from One Nerve Left
2. Menage a Monday: Featuring BORED Mommy
3. Just when slacking became an acceptable reality