Abbe is not breastfeeding. It’s too much of an effort for him. His mother has made many brave attempts but it doesn’t seem to be happening. He is struggling just to stay awake, the poor thing. Sucking and working to get nutrition would be too much of a strain on him. It would cost more energy than it gave, so to speak. But mother’s milk is very nutritious, so my wife (who is just beginning to make her way around the place without a wheelchair) pumps it out and stores it in bottles.
They provide you with electric pumps to simplify things. I understand it’s hard enough as it is. The pump brings cows and farming to mind, a thought I haven’t shared with my wife. She’s working like hell, I feel for her. The milk bottles, tagged with the baby’s name and the time at which the milk was pumped out, are kept in a fridge. When Abbe’s feeding time approaches, we heat the milk up and feed it to him through a bottle. Well, the tiny amount he has the energy to eat. The rest of his minimal requirement, we give him through a tube. This was pretty hard to get used to, but I’m getting there. I have to.