I Lost My Milk Supply In The Pandemic
My approach to nursing has always been small milestones. Not “I’m going to nurse until she’s two” goals, but rather, “Good work, we made it another month” motivation. And I seamlessly made nursing and pumping easy parts of my daily routine. Willow pump in when I did my makeup, ate my lunch, and drove home from work. Nursing in the morning and before bed.
It was finely-tuned clockwork. I truly felt like it was effortless. Or at least, effort minimal. I didn’t realize how reliant on my routine I was to produce, pump and give milk. I recognized that routine was important, but overlooked how I rarely pumped on weekends or holidays — thinking of those days off as a choice, not a result of different routine. Or ignored and signs of exhaustion because I had built in time to myself.
When COVID-19 kept me and my three kids home-bound and I became a remote worker slash preschool teacher slash elementary teaching assistant slash professional snack-maker all routines were out the door. And quickly, the pumping and the nursing eroded.
COVID not only changed my routine, but made me confront a number of uncomfortable burdens. I was tired. Overtired from too much care-taking. I was stressed in new ways that I was unwilling to accept — I didn’t want to be a teacher. I didn’t want to be homebound. I was tired of pumping — I wanted to sit, eat lunch, alone, with no expectations. I wanted my body fully. If COVID was going to force me to share all of my time, my energy, and my mental capacity, I needed something to claim as my own. My body.
It was classic. “I’ll pump twice tomorrow”. “I’ll pump after lunch”. “She’ll wake up to nurse”. Tomorrow was always the same story. And though it must have happened gradually, it seemed suddenly that we were done. When I attempted to pump, the ounces didn’t come. When we nursed, she was unsatisfied. And maybe in haste, but with a touch of relief, I gave in and decided we were done. Done with all of it, all at once. No more pumping, no more nursing.
The new routine (or rather, non routine), the stress, the exhaustion and the subconscious resentment that started to bubble impacted my motivation and simultaneously (or as a result), my supply dwindled by the day.
My daughter was 20 months when I stopped. I don’t regret not going longer, but the end didn’t come as I’d imagined. I didn’t have a clear picture, but I expected to be more in control, more empowered. Not exhausted by the COVID-19 pandemic.