Little John was five weeks early. This classifies him as a "late-term preemie". Babies born between 34 and 37 weeks are considered late-term preemies. So he's a preemie, but he's pretty much normal size and had no major issues related to prematurity other than being totally pissed at being evacuated from the nice cushy pad where he got to eat taco bell and ice cream every day without even having to wake up to open his mouth.
Aaaaaand herein lies the problem with the late-term preemie. Will not wake up ever, will not eat for more than a minute, when he throws in the towel and falls back asleep. So, here is my day (and night):
Annoy the crap out of him to wake him up(ish).
Put him on boob (may require nipple shield, which I can never find and when I do, has cat hair on it).
Ensure proper latch.
Yay! He's latched.
Wow! He's gulping!
Go, go, go!
Crap, he stopped.
Dang, he's asleep.
Burp him, switch sides, annoy him by bothering his feet.
Do this for about half an hour until I'm reasonably sure he's eaten a respectable amount.
Pump remaining breastmilk.
Feed him said breastmilk with a bottle (or, if unable to pump freak out that my supply is dwindling).
Wash pump, store extra milk.
Swear off breastfeeding forever.
Start crying because I don't want to swear off breastfeeding.
Change poopy diaper.
Find cellphone, set alarm to do it all again in an hour.
When we took him to the doc this week he had gained 18 oz. That's over a pound! In a week! So, something is going right, I guess. But it's so stressful. I never realized how committed I really am to breastfeeding. I'm hoping that if I can just push through, he will wake up and get it and I won't have to pump or use a bottle or a nipple shield or do any of this ridiculous stuff. I'm not opposed to formula; I know that he`would be perfectly healthy on it. But I loved breastfeeding Edwin. It was easy, convenient, and it made me feel needed. Also, what if there was some terrible disaster (earthquake? hurricane?) and I couldn't get formula? My anxiety can't handle that possibility, so I'd really rather breastfeed because I'm crazy like that.
So, here he is. Mr. John Hopson Windover, late-term preemie: