I Exclusively Pumped After My Baby Wouldn't Latch. Here's What I Wish I'd Known.

Before I did it, I thought pumping meant you sat down, pumped milk, put the milk in a bottle and moved on with your day.

Cute.

There's setting everything up. Pumping. Labeling and storing milk. Washing pump parts. Washing bottles. Drying everything. Reassembling everything. Feeding the baby.

Then you look at the clock and realize you're going to do it all again shortly.

At some point, I stopped feeling like a person and started feeling like a very tired dairy operation.

And because Sawyer was taking bottles, pumping didn't replace the feeding itself. I could spend time pumping milk and then still need to feed him milk I had pumped earlier.

It felt completely backwards sometimes.

I don't say that to scare anyone away from exclusive pumping. It worked for us, and I am incredibly grateful I was able to feed Sawyer that way.

I just wish I had understood that the commitment isn't only physical.

It takes time.

A lot of it.

Once I realized how much of my day was going to revolve around pumping, I became very interested in making it more convenient.

Enter the Elvie.

The concept sounded perfect. If I was going to pump constantly, why wouldn't I want something wearable? I imagined myself pumping while doing laundry, answering emails, moving around the house and generally behaving like a productive member of society.

Unfortunately, the Elvie didn't work well enough for me.

It didn't suck.

Which sucked.

My output simply wasn't as good as it was with my Medela.

That does NOT mean the Elvie is a bad pump. Bodies respond differently to pumps, and plenty of women love wearable pumps. Mine just wasn't giving me what I needed when pumping was my primary way of feeding Sawyer.

And when you're exclusively pumping, that matters a lot more than whether you can walk around while doing it.

While Sawyer was in the NICU, I was using a Medela pump there. When it became clear that pumping was going to be a major part of our feeding routine, I wanted something at home that felt closer to what was already working for me.

That's how I ended up with the Medela Sonata.

It wasn't as exciting as a tiny wearable pump tucked inside my bra. Nobody was going to look at me and think, “Wow, she's really cracked the code on effortless motherhood.”

But it worked better for me.

And once I was exclusively pumping, I stopped caring whether my pump was cool. I cared whether it effectively pumped milk.

Funny how quickly priorities change when a tiny person is waiting for lunch.

If I were preparing again, I would focus first on finding a strong primary pump that worked well for my body. Then, if I wanted a wearable pump for convenience, I'd consider adding one later.

I wouldn't build my entire pumping plan around portability before knowing how my body actually responded to the pump.

When you do something multiple times every single day, tiny inconveniences become enormous.

Having enough bottles mattered. Having clean pump parts mattered. Having somewhere convenient to keep everything mattered.

We ended up using Dr. Brown's bottles with Sawyer, which worked really well for him despite each bottle apparently containing 847 individual components that needed to be washed.

I eventually stopped caring whether our feeding setup looked aesthetically pleasing.

Clean and available became the aesthetic.

If I could eliminate one washing session, one unnecessary trip across the house or one frantic search for a clean bottle, that mattered more to me than another fancy baby gadget.

This is also why I'd tell any mom preparing to exclusively pump not to spend a fortune building the perfect pumping station before she knows what she likes.

Get yourself set up.

Then adjust it around your actual routine.

Apparently this is my advice about everything baby-related now.

This was probably harder to prepare for than the logistics.

I had pictured breastfeeding my baby.

Instead, I had an early baby in the NICU who wouldn't latch, and suddenly the feeding experience I had imagined wasn't happening.

There wasn't one dramatic moment where I decided to become an exclusive pumper. It was more like the situation kept moving forward and I moved with it.

The goal became very simple: feed Sawyer and get him home.

Pumping helped me do that.

There were parts of it I hated. There were moments I wished feeding could just be easier. There were absolutely times when I looked at the pile of pump parts waiting to be washed and wondered how something so small could create this many dishes.

But pumping was also something tangible I could do for him during a time when a lot of things felt outside of my control.

That mattered to me.

If exclusive pumping becomes your primary feeding method, start by finding a pump that works well for your body rather than assuming the most convenient-looking option will automatically be the best one.

Make the logistics as easy as possible. Have enough bottles and parts that you aren't constantly washing the same three things. Put supplies where you actually use them. Give yourself permission to change the setup when something is annoying you.

And if you planned to breastfeed directly and somehow ended up pumping instead, it's okay if you have feelings about that.

You can be grateful you're able to feed your baby and still wish the process looked different.

Both things can be true.

Having Sawyer taught me very quickly that the plan and the goal are not always the same thing.

My plan was breastfeeding.

The goal was feeding my baby and bringing him home.

Once I understood that, the rest became a little easier.

For my body and my exclusive-pumping experience, the Medela Sonata worked significantly better than my wearable pump.

That is my personal experience, not a promise that every woman's body will respond the same way.

If you're reading this while you're still pregnant and trying to prepare for every possible feeding scenario, I have unfortunately become the person who is going to tell you that you can't.

I tried.

Read “What I Wish I Knew Before Building My Baby Registry” before buying twelve versions of everything.

And for the bigger list of what we actually used once Sawyer arrived, read “What You Actually Need Before Baby Arrives (and What Can Wait).”

Prepare.

Just leave a little room for your baby to change the plan.

Mine certainly did.