The thing that I’ve had on my mind a lot lately is the question of when to begin my hormonal transition in relation to what to do about having a child. I’ve known I wanted a baby since I was pretty young, though in more of a maternal parenting role than a paternal one. The only times I’ve questioned that were when the pressures to be a father made me feel inadequate to the task. And especially since learning that induced lactation is possible, I’ve known that starting from infancy is definitely what I want to do.
But the thing is, I’m not in a place yet where I’m ready to start a family. Part of that is personal – I think I need to do more growth and self work before I am ready to devote that much time and attention on a mini human. And part of that is situational – my spouse doesn’t want to be a primary parent and I don’t have anyone else to co-parent with in my life right now.
The part that gives me pause is what to do about my sperm. Once I start hormones it is fairly likely that I will quickly become permanently infertile. There aren’t a lot of studies about what happens when you stop hormones but the advice is to assume that it is a permanent change. I’ve looked into freezing my sperm but that is a very expensive procedure with no guarantee of success, and frankly, I don’t have the money right now dues to other high medical expenses. It also requires me to have good sperm count and motility to begin with and I’m becoming less and less sure that is the case. When my hormone levels were checked recently, my testosterone was low (no surprise) which doesn’t bode well. I also have many habits that tend to lower fertility such as wearing tight clothing, smoking pot, and taking ibuprofen.
So even if I was ready to make a baby right now, there is no guarantee I could do it without major changes that don’t really seem possible. I don’t want to take testosterone supplements because that’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do. It would be very difficult to wear loose clothing with my current style and wardrobe. And cannabis is the only thing I’ve found that makes my chronic pain even tolerable.
As I’ve come to accept that, I’ve realized that I can’t keep waiting on starting my transition. It’s harming my mental health to be stuck in this limbo waiting for a sign. So I’ve setup an appointment with my primary care physician, who luckily specializes in trans patients, to talk about starting hormones. I am going to have to trust that if the universe wants me to have a child, destiny is going to have to meet me halfway.
There are other options for the future. Being nonbinary and nonmonogamous with a nontraditional family structure means that adoption would be difficult, especially through an agency, but there are local places friends have recommended where the birth parent gets to make a choice. What I’m really hoping happens is that I find someone to co-parent with who has a working uterus and possibly another partner with sperm. If not there is always artificial insemination or surrogate parents.
Right now I need to focus on beginning my transition and hopefully along the way find the right way to build a family. If anyone is interested in starting conversations about co-parenting, platonically or otherwise, please let me know.
It’s been over two years since Emily weaned. I don’t write about breastfeeding or nursing anymore, unless it is in response to a comment on my nipple trauma post, still my most popular post on this blog.
It gratifies me to know I’ve left even a tiny mark on the world of breastfeeding health and lactivism.
I miss nursing, but I don’t really feel the urge to write about it anymore. And unless I am doling out obnoxiously unsolicited advice to a new mom, I rarely talk about it.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
Since I nursed Emily until she was a little past four, when she naturally weaned herself, she remembers her time at the breast. She occasionally mentions it to me. She reminisces, and even wishes she could still be a cozy little nursling.
It is also gratifying to know my daughter has happy, safe, sweet memories of nursing and will hopefully grow up with positive attitudes about breastfeeding.
But I digress. . .
What I really wanted to tell you about was meeting my all time musical idol a few months back.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a HUGE Regina Spektor fan. My obsession for her cannot be stifled.
Regina is a Russian immigrant who came here as a child to escape religious persecution for being Jewish. She is a classically trained pianist who writes insanely creative songs in the indie-anti-folk-alternative genre.
You might know her as the singer who wrote and performed the Orange is the New Black theme song. She also recently did a cover of While My Guitar Gently Weeps for the animated movie, Kubo and the Two Strings.
Her presence in the world brings me joy and hope. It’s no hyperbole to say her music changed my life. It may have even altered my DNA at a molecular level.
Regina toured this past year, and I got to see her three times. THREE TIMES you guys!!!
I saw her in my home state, and in New York City at Radio City Music Hall in March. Then I got to see her in November in Northampton, MA. Through a confluence of rare and unusual events, a friend managed to obtain backstage passes to meet Ms. Spektor after the show in Northampton.
OMGOMGOMG!!! I know, right!!!
It was going to be really hard to play it cool, but that was the plan. The entire show was like an out of body experience, and she sang Loveology and Pound of Flesh and Flyin‘ and a bunch of other oldies I’d never heard live before.
Oh, and also my friend and I were in the second row, just so, so, so close to this woman who has more artistic energy in a fingernail clipping than most people can imagine in their entire lifetimes! The show was unreal, and even if I’d never met Regina that night, it still would have pretty much been a perfect experience.
So, we stuck our backstage passes on our lapels after the show and waited in the appointed spot for the tour manager. There were people hanging around who didn’t have backstage passes, and they didn’t even try to hide their envy as they asked how we got “on the list”.
Finally the tour manager came to get us, and he led us down some stairs to a chamber that was all brick and basement and lacking in any glamour or glitz. And there she was. Regina Freaking Spektor. My spirit animal.
She greeted us with genuine warmth and kindness that set me instantly at ease. She was soft spoken and almost shy. We chatted about this and that and fuck tRump!
I got to tell her how I’d seen her at RCMH and how I heard her speak about Purim and the importance of resistance and how meaningful and prescient this had been to me at the time. I shared with her that I worked for a Jewish agency and she seemed truly delighted by this little fact about me.
While we were talking, her tour manager came up to her with a bag of lentils. She thanked him and turned back to us. “If you ever need to make a heat pack in a pinch,” she said. “Lentils work great! Stick them in a sock in the microwave.”
“Rice in a sock works good too,” I added.
“Oh yeah?”
“Sure,” I offered confidently. “Came in handy during breastfeeding.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I was sure I’d said the most flagrantly awkward thing on the planet. Who meets their idol and starts talking about breastfeeding? I apologized with a little laugh.
“No!” Regina said with a pleasant and unflappable grace. “That’s so real. Breastfeeding is real. I remember. . .” Somehow we got on another subject and then she signed my poster for my daughter and me. Love and peace and fun.
She gave us hugs and we took photos together.
The whole encounter didn’t last more than ten minutes and then my friend and I were on the road back home.
I haven’t posted here in a long while, and I haven’t posted about breastfeeding in a longer while. It occurred to me that this was a sharable little nugget.
I’m always searching for ways to integrate all these random bits of myself; to reconcile all of the parts of who I am to make something whole and awesome. There is me as an artist, woman, mom, wife, worker, and friend. There is me as someone who hopes and hurts and heals and hides. There is me as a sexual goddess being, created of life. There is me who is very private. There is me who is very proud and enthusiastic.
In a way, it is so totally perfect that I managed to casually weave a thread of one of my life’s greatest passions into my tiny interaction with my greatest hero. It felt awkward and crazy and just right. To me, that’s what my integration is all about, and it was received with gracious humor that night.
Hi! Guess what? Mommy’s Little Cupcake products can now be purchased on Shopee! Simply search for us or you can also type in shop.ph/mommyslittlecupcake
Check out the site because they offer the Shopee Guarantee which makes sure your payment is safe and they have plenty of promos and flash sales, too!
One of the most exciting thoughts to me when I was going through my two pregnancies was the thought of breastfeeding my child. Now I definitely understand that not all mothers choose to breastfeed for various reasons and I totally appreciate each individual woman’s choice.
My reasons were somewhat complicated. I am not sure how I would have felt if I had not already experienced the past that I already endured with my breasts. We already had a close and tense relationship.
When I was 35, I was diagnosed with breast cancer in my left breast. I had a lumpectomy, followed by chemotherapy, followed by 6 weeks of daily radiation, followed by post cancer tamoxifen. It was a long road, but it was finally over and I was left with a distorted breast and little confidence that I’d be able to feed any future children.
I’ve had two post cancer babies. That in itself is the biggest blue ribbon prize I can think of for any woman who wants children, who has gone through a cancer process, and can still bear children after chemotherapy courses through their veins.
The breastfeeding piece, however, became nerve wracking for me. I was anxious about it as I had read so many articles about women not producing right away or not having enough with one breast even if they were able to produce milk. I was preoccupied as the day approached to meet my son.
The day finally came and as I had anticipated, I struggled. My son lost over a pound in the hospital and I was already devastated. If you’ve been a woman who really wants to breastfeed and are motivated to make it work, you put in hours of time into making it work. You feed every 20 minutes and have pumping regimens to try and get your milk going.
I did this for 6 weeks. I took herbal supplements, drank teas and did everything “natural” that was recommended, but nothing worked. I remember I cried a lot. My breasts had screwed me over again and I was in a situation that was beyond my control. I hated them.
I was starting to lose hope and my son was starting to drink more and more formula. As I was starting to give up the idea that breastfeeding was going to ever work, a family member mentioned the most amazing prospect to me to finally make my milk come in- domperidone.
This does indeed sound like Dom Perignon and in a sense, domperidone is like a fine champagne. Here’s the deal with this amazing drug. It is not available in the US. Sadly, the FDA will not authorize it for use as a breastfeeding drug and in 2017, shortly before I gave birth, they pulled it from all US pharmacies due to a potential heart issue that can occur while taking it. The percentages are small that a consumer would have this heart anomaly, but the concern was great enough to remove it from shelves.
It should be noted that it is not a drug that is indicated for breastfeeding mothers but rather a drug used to treat certain stomach and gastrointestinal issues. The drug can cause the patient to lactate as a side effect. This is the amazing part of this drug: it works.
Within 1 day, I was all of a sudden experiencing an engorged breast, leaking, and enough milk production to feed my son 50% of his daily milk intake. It works differently for every woman and with my second pregnancy, I am currently able to feed my son around 75% of his daily intake. It’s amazing. I went from producing maybe not even an ounce of milk per pump, to 6 ounces of milk per pump.
I was able to have the bonding experience with my child I never thought I could have, nourish him to an extent the way that I wanted, and have some control again over my breasts- something I thought not possible.
The opportunity to make breastfeeding work for me was not only an amazing experience for me and my sons, but it also helped me learn to love a part of my body that once tried to kill me. My breasts became something I admired instead of hating. It also helped me work though my emotions about breast cancer.
How does a person obtain this wonder drug if it is not available in the US? Canadian pharmacies still prescribe the drug and all you need is your OB to write a script. The problem is, however, your OB may be reluctant (mine was) because they are not willing to prescribe a drug banned by the FDA with no availability here. It’s a liability to them if a side effect like the heart anomaly should occur.
I came across an online pharmacy that does not require a prescription and I have been thankfully getting my domperidone shipped to the US. It’s great, it’s legit, and very easy to order. I have now been breastfeeding my second child for almost a year on this drug thanks to this pharmacy.
I will note that I do have one doctor that is in support of me taking this drug contingent I receive an EKG every 2 months or so to monitor for the heart anomaly that can occur. My suggestion is to find a doctor that would monitor this and agree to EKGs for reassurance if there is an interest in domperidone and the ability to breastfeed.
My breastfeeding journey has been amazing and I am grateful to have an experience I never thought possible. For more information on ordering domperidone please visit:
https://www.inhousepharmacy.vu/
Lactation cookies: a reason to eat cookies? Yes, please!
As a breastfeeding working mom I had a little help in keeping my supply up: COOKIES!
When I was pregnant with Michael my love of chocolate chip cookies greatly intensified and I had at least one a day. My obsession didn’t end with pregnancy and my sweet craving — especially for chocolate chip cookies — has stuck with me ever since.
When Michael was still nursing, I tried a million recipes for lactation cookies — cookies with a purpose! An excuse to eat even more! — and my favorite one came from Milkin’ Mamas, but the link doesn’t work anymore, so I’m re-typing it here.
You know a recipe is legit if it’s posted in the lactation room at work and dated almost two years prior! Enjoy!
The BEST lactation cookies (Makes a lot of cookies! Bake extras to share with your lactation room friends! Freeze what you don’t want to bake now!)
Steps:
Some notes:
I would make a large batch of cookie dough, bake the cookies I needed for the week and then freeze the extras, so I could bake them whenever I needed cookies.
Need other ideas for keeping your supply high? Read this post!
Milk? Formula? Fed is best.
This post is over a year in the making. Life of a working mom, then-pumping mom, then mom, right?
Having a kid is a lot of fun, but it’s also hard work. (Like, the hardest job I’ve ever had!) One of the hardest/most annoying parts of motherhood is feeding your kid, specifically breastfeeding.
Michael was a good breastfeed-er and we hit our stride pretty early on. But, it was a task; not something I wanted to do, but something I had to do. You know, to feed my kid. Breastfeeding while you’re with the kid is pretty easy to get the hang of, but when you’re away from him and pumping? A whole ‘nother story.
Until recently, and while I was nursing Michael, I worked for the City of Seattle and while some of the city buildings only have adequate pumping facilities, my building’s “mother’s room” is amazing. In addition to a couple of mini fridges, a sink, and microwave (essentials for storing and cleaning your milk), we had plush chairs, private cubicles, and a bank of lockers to store our gear.
By themselves, these attributes made my pumping experience a bit better than some of my friends who didn’t have quite this nice of setup. But it isn’t a standalone thing. The City employs thousands of individuals, and some of them are lactating moms. This is a strong, close-knit community that I was honored to be a part of for close to a year.
It’s not easy going from months off of work, focusing solely on nurturing your new human to working 8+ hours a day, trying to pretend that you didn’t just give birth and don’t have biological needs that have to be addressed. Do you know what it’s like to push your pump break a few minutes only to have to rush to the Emergency Operations Center with your non-parent, mostly male colleagues to address citywide messaging for a huge power outage in downtown Seattle instead of “milking yourself”? I do. It’s not ideal.
I named the lactation/mother’s room the Pump Haus (or Microsoft, which is what it looks like you’re saying if your colleague mouths “milk yourself” after saying you need to leave a meeting urgently). I made some really great friendships there with moms with kids weeks or months older or younger than Michael. We talked about everything. It was a real, live chat board! The more experienced moms set many of our concerns to rest and I was thankful that I was able to pass along my knowledge to the newbies. We talked sleeping, eating, drinking not just for our babes, but also for ourselves; everything under the sun! We shared sale codes, recipes, and advice about decorating, first birthday parties, vacations, and jobs. I even took a meeting or two in the Pump Haus, with a new-mom colleague. Talk about multi-tasking!
I stopped pumping in September, after Michael’s first birthday. I didn’t realize how emotional it would be, but as I wrote a note to my fellow Pump Haus moms, I teared up. While I blame the hormones for the tears, the Pump Haus and my Pump Haus community were a huge part of last year. I count my blessings that I was able to have such a positive pumping experience, because I know that’s not always the case.
Just before the end of the year Michael nursed for the last time and seems to be doing just fine without breast milk. (YESSSSS!!!) It’s pretty freeing for me and for those of you who are struggling with breastfeeding and/or pumping, or heading back to work soon, I’m here to share my tips with you.
My daily haul of “milkies”
Lactation cookies: a reason to eat cookies? Yes, please!
For milk production:
Pumping at work:
I think that’s it. Happy pumping!
Don’t let this happen to you! Pay attention to clean up!
