Raining Milk

There it was: milk coming into the bottles. There was just a little bit, barely a quarter. I had been so tired and stressed out. My nipples looked like Edward Scissor Hands had taken his digits to them; they were red and dry and bruised. Breastfeeding has been a struggle since I gave birth to Claira Iris on January  21st. I had heard that I should try breastfeeding to give her some health benefits at the beginning, so I embarked on one of the most challenging journeys that I have ever taken. Here is what I have found out: some people think that breastfeeding is what you should do, others think formula is fine. 

I have been muddling by doing a mix of both. I wanted answers about what to feed her, and I wanted them now. I didn’t know what to do, so I thought of the manna that the Lord provided to the Israelites when they entered the Promise Land. The manna would arrive each day a little bit at a time: grace in small parts.

John and my mother made me formula bottles when I couldn’t raise my tired head off the chair after trying to breastfeed for hours: a pure grace moment.  Then my milk arrived on Day 6 of being at home: another pure grace moment because I had read that the more you nursed, the faster the milk would arrive; those early days of trying to nurse were so hard, and I had somehow kept it up, minute by minute: Nurse with Claira, use formula, switch to pump, nurse with Claira, switch to pump and then use the formula. I was counting the ticks on the clock, so I could be done.  But through this whole ordeal, God has been faithful. There was manna to be had. Thank you, Jesus.