This was the week. I felt it. It had to be this week. There were pressing issues.
It started on Monday and didn’t go well. Tuesday and Wednessday didn’t fare any better. When I awoke on Thursday I resolved: This is the day! I must win the battle of the bottle.
A month ago I began my bottle battle with little eJo. I had some tell-tale signs of losing my milk, and decided I had better: 1) Pump to find out just how much the little dude was getting; and 2) Get Ev to take a bottle, just in case.
The day did not go well, I pumped, but then the little guy wouldn’t eat the fresh milk from the bottle, spitting, squirming and screaming instead. All day passed . . . with nary a drop digested.
I have sporatically retried the “bottle thing” over the past month, but last week reality hit hard when I had to go do a photo shoot. Wyatt took Ev down to grandma’s house and an full four and a half hours passed before I saw him again. I made it in the nic of time, but realized such situations were unfair to other care givers.
This weekend I had my sisters wedding, and I knew if I wanted to really enjoy the day, little eJo would have to take a bottle. Plus, I reasoned, with my mom in town to take turns with the tearful babe, the whole process might be easier.
Um, wrong.
Like I said, each day involved screaming, tears and tantrums (and that was just me!) and always ended with a breast to soothe the trouble.
And then Thursday, with time running out, I steeled myself against what I knew would be a miserable day. Ev got a morning breakfast . . . and then no more.
A bottle was offered at each of his regular feeding times, and often inbetween. I cuddled, bounced, patted, and rocked, trying to coo the little guy into giving it a try. He would have none of it.
Finally at five o’clock in the evening, after holding the bottle into his screaming mouth for a few minutes, he finally nuzzled and nursed. And then my belly-full-happy-little-guy returned.
For a few hours.
That night he again refused bottles. All through the night I tried again and again. He went fourteen hours, until seven am the next morning before taking the bottle again.
And then the rest of Friday he did fine.
And Saturday he did well too.
Today (Sunday) he has had a hard time. I actually nursed him last night and this morning, reasoning that it had been enough days – he knew how to take a bottle.
But when I tried to return to the bottle this afternoon, he threw a fit.
I guess we still have a few kinks to work out.
Next battle: Formula.