Lucy reigned in 8 months with her top teeth coming in and another double ear infection. I knew she wasn't feeling herself when she started refusing to nurse again. When she goes through these strikes (what!? Some babies don't have nursing strikes!?) it is an emotional rollercoaster for the both of us. After a couple of weeks of absolutely refusing to nurse from me, my milk starting decreasing. I had been pumping, but with the combination of a super inefficient pump and a sick, sad baby I just couldn't keep my milk up. I mean two and a half weeks of no nursing?? That is a ridiculously long time.
By the time her ear infections cleared up and her teeth finally popped through Lucy was still screaming anytime I even laid her down in my arms. She would have nothing to do with the idea of nursing or even being held in a nursing position. I had to come to the realization that she was done. For some woman this would be a complete relief. I had lots of moms tell me how nice it must be because now I don't have to worry about it nor worry about weaning. To say the truth, I have been heart broken. I have loved nursing Lucy and absolutely loved the time I had with her cuddled up to me while I got to snuggle her in close. It was incredibly rewarding as a mother to know that I was giving her all she needed as far as nutrients and my milk was exactly what she needed for her rapidly growing body and mind.
With that being said, as my milk was slowly running lower and lower, I was incredibly (and still am!) grateful for formula. I don't know what I would have done if we didn't have it. Although, the first time Jordan and I gave Lucy a bottle of formula (I refused to do it, being a little over-the-top sensitive towards the whole idea) she took one sip, gagged and shoved it away. Over and over again she did this. So, we devised a brilliant plan to put half breast milk and half formula in the same bottle. Lucy would have nothing to do with that bottle either. She gagged like we were trying to poison her. We then went to 1/4 formula the rest breast milk-- same reaction. Jordan was finally able to get her to drink the bottle when it only had 1/8 part formula and 7/8 parts breast milk. That made me feel a little bit better about the whole situation. She preferred MY milk, she just wouldn't drink it from me. That idea was short lived when I realized Lucy was wanting the best of both worlds (well, not in my opinion) by having breast milk, but in a bottle. Over the next week we were able to slowly add more formula into her bottles while decreasing my milk in each one. It worked well since I was getting less and less milk each time I pumped. I knew we would be leaving to visit our sisters in New York and Boston on July 3rd, so I decided I would only be pumping once a day by then.
Lots of tears were shed, on both mine and Lucy's parts, but we are figuring it out. Who knew you had to watch how much milk your baby was drinking? I never knew! I just nursed her when she wanted to eat and knew she was having plenty of wet diapers. Now that she's drinking formula I feel like I'm learning to be a mom all over again!
With all of that emotional jabbering done, how about I get onto the fact that our BABY is 8 months old! As of late she is mastering picking up food with her tiny little fingers. Most of the time the food ends up in her palm and then she has a hard time getting her palm open to put the food in her mouth. She is just BARELY starting to use her pinchers to grab things. Lucy is quick to smile when we pull out the camera or our phone, especially if she can see herself, and quick to scream when I leave the room. Her personality gets more and more defined everyday and we love that we have one of the sweetest girls around in our home.
That little face of hers is the sweetest thing in the world.
These two are starting to be buddies. Although they are both incredibly suspicious of one another still.
Sunday morning nap.
That hair, though.
This is what happens when I don't learn my lesson and forget an extra outfit AGAIN.
Lucy loves watching some Bball with dad.
