Life is pretty good as a mother of an eight-month-old son… now. But in honor of August’s Breastfeeding Week, let me take you back to a very dark time in my motherhood journey. It happened within the first week of giving birth.

Throughout my pregnancy, the method in which I would feed my baby was not an issue. Breastfeeding, duh! The perks are endless: possible weight loss, no cost, gives protective enzymes to the baby…

But no one ever told me what to do when the milk doesn’t come in on time. 😮

So there I was in the hospital “breastfeeding” my 7.5-pound baby colostrum, the substance that pregnant women produce before their milk fully comes in. My son would eat some and then stop. He didn’t really seem full, but the nurses said it was normal, so I figured everything was fine.

My son was still having a few wet diapers, so hospital personnel weren’t too alarmed about my concerns.

Was he having latching problems? According to the pushy lactation consultant, he wasn’t. I just wasn’t putting him in the right position. (But yet he wasn’t eating much even with her supervision either.) Since the nurses and the consultant were the professionals and seemed to find no issues, I didn’t think twice about it. Besides, I was about to be released the next day. 🙄

On the day of release, my son had lost about 5 ounces.

“That’s completely normal,” the nurse said. “Once your milk fully comes in, he’ll gain that weight back in no time.”

When I got home, everything seemed to be going well. That is, until nighttime came. 😈

Oh… my… goodness. The cries. The shrills. The blood-curdling screams. It was enough to nearly drive my husband and I insane.

“Why is he crying so much? He wasn’t like this at the hospital!”

The shrieks lasted from 11 p.m. to about 4 a.m. 😐

Was it colic? Is he sick?

As my husband was unsuccessfully trying to pacify our son, I noticed that our son was wailing, but no tears were coming out. Also, his lips weren’t the supple pink they once were—they were now chapped and darkened in some areas. And was he losing weight or was I going crazy? 😕

At my wits end, I turned to the internet (and lots of prayer) to help me find some answers.

DEHYDRATION?? The symptoms all checked out.

“But the hospital didn’t tell me what to do if my milk doesn’t come in for days. Am I supposed to just feed the couple of drops I have? He’s obviously more hungry than that!”

I was glad we pin-pointed the problem, but it also made me feel like an extremely inept mother.

“My only job is to feed him… and I can’t even do that right?!”

In a moment of divine clarity, I thought about pumping. I’ve seen it talked about on TV shows, but no doctor told me about that option during my pregnancy. :/

The sun was not out yet, but I rushed to my husband to tell him my findings.

“You have to go to Wal-Mart,” I said. “I need a pump!”

I didn’t have a clue what I was doing when I took the manual hand pump out of the box. Sit up straight, drink plenty of fluids, put the parts in place, and squeeze. o_O

I winced through the slight pain and discomfort, but I was way more excited to see that a few trickles of milk were coming out!

I could only get about an ounce out, but I rushed it over to my son, and he drank it all up. He was quiet for the time being, but I needed a more permanent solution. ❓

I wanted my child to only have breastmilk, but I couldn’t have him go hungry while my body was still taking its precious time to produce it. Since it was Saturday, we decided to buy some formula for the time being. Then on Monday, we went to the hospital to rent a heavy duty hospital-grade pump. 💡

And that’s how I became an exclusive pumper.

In the beginning, I was pumping every two to three hours. But I soon got sick of that and decided to only pump three times a day. Now, I’m down to twice a day. 😛

I actually like it a lot. My son is still getting my milk, anyone can feed him because it’s stored in a bottle, and I know the exact amount of ounces he’s eating at each feeding.

It was a rough first week of motherhood, but it was definitely worth it in the end. It’s actually kind of funny looking back on it now because the only time my son really cries is when he’s tired or hungry—a cry I remember all too well.  😉

I say all of this to let some struggling mom out there know that you’re not “less than” just because you can’t do things the way you originally planned.

Life throws you curve balls, and you have to swing at them… even if that means using a different bat than everyone else. The important thing is that you love your child and you’ll do anything within your power to take care of them. 😀