Hell Hath No Fury Like the Stomach Flu

I had all these great posts planned for last week, and then I got my ass behind handed to me by the stomach flu. So now I'm writing about that instead! I swear I've never been sick like that before. It was wretched. My husband, who bore helpless witness to the whole 8 hour projectile ordeal, even said it was like watching me go through labor again. He actually insisted that if I didn't stop throwing up by X time he'd be taking me to the ER. I'll admit, I felt like I was in labor, except there was no cute, squishy newborn at the end of it. (On second thought, maybe I'm ok with that.) The worst of it happened overnight and was quelled by the next morning, but it's taken an entire week for me to feel back to (basically) normal again. It was one of those instances that had me marvelling at the super-human powers of single moms and people who don't have family nearby. I honestly can't imagine having to go through that all on my own, let alone having to take care of Scoops on my own while feeling that way.

I was so terrified my husband was going to catch it and I'd have to take care of him before I felt fully recovered, or, worse, that Scoops would catch it. She still hasn't really been sick yet, and I just don't think I'm prepared to see her caught in the throes of uncontrolled vomiting. Obviously it's probably going to happen at some point, but I'm hoping we can hold off on it until she's older and can support herself over a puke-vessel. Fortunately, I was the only person in my household to contract this round of the heinous virus (or whatever it was). And despite my avid fears of passing my germs to Scoops, I insisted on feeding her myself as soon as the puking had stopped (so that time she woke up around 3 a.m. just as I was getting ready to hurl meant Daddy had bottle duty so I could yak into the trash can in peace). Feeding her, germs and all, turned out to be a great decision, both for the antibodies she received and for the maintenance of my dwindling milk supply.

Bear in mind, my supply has never been remarkable. I know I produce enough to feed Scoops at the tap, because she always behaves full and satisfied, she produces an appropriate amount of wet and dirty diapers, and she's hitting all her developmental milestones on time. But when I pump, I don't get impressive amounts. Sometimes it takes me a few sessions just to get a full bottle's worth of milk. Since I am lucky enough to be home with Scoops full time, this doesn't bother me. I just breastfeed when she's hungry, and try not to worry about the freezer stash. But aside from a direct response to demand, anyone with basic knowledge of the science of breastfeeding will tell you that your supply is dependent upon what goes into your body. In other words, if you're not eating enough healthy calories and drinking enough healthy liquids, your supply will likely not be as robust as it could be. So it stands to reason that an all-nighter spent yaking your guts out and voiding your bowels would not only deplete your body of what it needs to basically function (hence the shakes and an inability to walk to the bathroom unassisted), it'll also cause your milk supply to drop. This was the first time, in over 7 months of breastfeeding, that I experienced a blatantly noticeable decrease in supply, and, boy, did it ever suck. 

I have never felt so depressed, defeated, and humiliated by something that was largely out of my control. For the first time, I saw Scoops trying to eat and clearly not getting enough, visibly frustrated by the lack of milk in my never-before soft and droopy breasts. It was heartbreaking. I cried. And then I stopped, because I didn't have the energy to cry. Since I couldn't cry anymore, I had to be logical. We had enough milk in the freezer for Daddy to bottle feed Scoops and keep her tummy full. I resolved to try to nurse each time Scoops was hungry, and let Daddy top her off with a bottle if she needed more. In order to minimize germ contact, Daddy brought Scoops to me for every feeding, and took her away as soon as she was done. Having to repeatedly wave good-bye to my sweet baby all day was hard on my psyche, but Scoops seemed to handle it fine since she had Daddy to distract her. The first day I couldn't keep down plain water, so I hydrated with frequent small sips of coconut water. I kept increasing my liquids as much as I could, I added in food slowly the next day (starting with broth and working up to solid food), I forced myself to sleep or at least rest in bed when I wasn't trying to eat or drink, and within a couple of days I noticed my breasts filling up again. It was pretty miraculous actually, to see how quickly they started to fill again after how flat and droopy they'd been. Essentially, I focused all my energy and efforts on getting well again, and it worked. I started feeling better, and my breasts filled back up. 

I love feeding Scoops; breastfeeding is a sweet, special bond we have, and I hope and plan to continue feeding her this way for a long time. To have that sweetness interrupted by sickness was a heartbreaking moment in time, and gave me great sympathy for moms who have to permanently stop breastfeeding because of issues outside their control. I can't imagine having the gift of breastfeeding taken away from me. For now, though, my supply has returned and we are back on track with our normal breastfeeding routine. So here's to lots of water, rest, Vitamin C, and staying healthy and milky!