Australian infant formula – the magic of Bellamy’s

When Chris’s parents had booked their trip to come visit us this summer, Chris suggested that it might be a good idea for us to look up well-rated infant formulas available in Australia for them to cart over to supplement the baby’s diet. Australian food regulations are just as strict as EU food regulation, so we knew the infant formula would be of much higher quality than the Similac and other mainstream American infant formula brands here. Plus, I wasn’t sure if/when my milk supply would start decreasing whenever my period would come back, so I wanted to be prepared. And well, I’d rather be prepared with Australian formula rather than American formula.

In Australia and the EU, corn syrup or high fructose corn syrup are pretty much unknown ingredients, and so they aren’t used as empty and cheap calories used to fatten up babies the way it is here. I also think that dairy in Australia is overall, just far higher quality than that in the U.S. because again, corn is not the main ingredient used to feed cows there — grass is, as that’s natural and normal for them to eat. In Australia, when you buy a carton of cow’s milk, it’s just assumed (and from my perspective, taken for granted) that the cow who produced that milk for you ate grass, not corn, and therefore, that milk tastes much different than the average cow milk here, which came from cows primarily eating grain/corn, unless otherwise stated.

I chose three brands for them to bring back: two of them are organic and one of them is a goat milk based formula, which Chris got excited about – I’m sure he wants his own bottle of that! The one we opened first was Bellamy’s Organic, which is the first certified organic infant formula in Australia, founded by a Tasmanian mother. It’s made with grass-fed cow milk from New Zealand, specifically A2 milk, which is supposed to be easier to digest for babies and more nutrient dense than A1 milk (I guess that’s regular milk….?). When Chris first opened the can and smelled it, he reveled at the scent and had me come over to get a whiff. As soon as I smelled it, I started giggling nonstop almost — I couldn’t believe how good it smelled! It had a scent that was reminiscent of a sweet Asian milk biscuit (no, there’s no sugar in this!!). It was so pleasing and nice to smell, unlike the formulas here. Bobbie has a pretty nondescript smell and isn’t offensive at all, but it doesn’t hold a candle in terms of “pleasantness” of scent like Bellamy’s.

It wasn’t even just the scent of the formula that got us: the way it mixed with water was so, so different. As soon as you add the formula powder to a bottle of room temperature water, it almost immediately dissolves. Then, when you shake it, almost no bubbles or foam appear; in fact, the color and the viscosity of the formula appears almost exactly like breast milk. When we put a bottle of the Bellamy’s next to a bottle of my breast milk, you almost couldn’t tell the difference between the two. That would NEVER be the case with any American formula, even Bobbie, which markets itself to be like European formula. Bobbie foams up like crazy, so I could spot the difference in Bobbie vs. breast milk from across a room.

Chris mixed the baby’s first ever bottle of Bellamy’s formula while we were out at lunch on Sunday, and she seemed to enjoy it. Her initial expression was one of “Hmmm, this is new. What is this?” And then, she seemed to lap it up and really relish each slurp. When Chris stopped halfway through her feed to burp her, I opened the bottle to take a smell again, she started yelping, as though to get mad that I might be taking her Bellamy’s milk from her!

“She might end up preferring Bellamy’s milk over your breast milk,” Chris said to me, tauntingly.

Uh-huh. Sure, she will….

I told our nanny that Chris said this, and she laughed and said, “Chris! Nothing is better than mommy’s booby milk! Nothing!!”

Back kink: a reason to have a life partner at your side

Since last Tuesday morning, I’ve had the most annoying kink in a back muscle on my right side. I have no idea what caused it. Chris thinks it’s because of the flatter pillows we slept on at the hotel, but who knows? Regardless, it’s been lingering for way longer than any muscle kink I’ve had ever had. Usually, they go away after a few days with some massage and nightly tiger balm application, but this time, nothing seems to help. I used the Theragun on me and had Chris use it on me a few times. He’s helped massage me and rub in tiger balm. While it feels good in the moment, I never seem to get back to normal after or the next day. It just feels the same. These are those odd little joys of getting older: having weird back cramps and kinks that have an unclear origin that just seem too stubborn to fade no matter what you do.

Last night, as Chris helped apply pressure on the spot with tiger balm, I thought of all the great reasons to have a life partner, and this was one of them. When you agree to spend the rest of your life with someone, you also agree to help them with these little life annoyances, like taking out muscle kinks, applying tiger balm to hard-to-reach areas of your body, buttoning up buttons on awkward spots behind your neck, sewing the holes in their shirts, soaking and swishing their blazers in a baking soda, vinegar, and tea tree oil + water solution to get out lingering stench. Because if you don’t have a partner to do this for you, who else will be there day in day out to help you?

Redefining “grandparenting”

This morning, Chris’s parents arrived bright and early to see us after 2.5 years, and to finally meet Kaia Pookie. I always imagined this meet and greet to be a little funny. I imagined Chris’s mom being super excited but not being quite sure what to say other than repeatedly saying, “hello, baby girl! Hello!” over and over (accurate). I imagined her wanting to hold her and take endless photos of her. I imagined Chris’s dad picking Kaia up to hold her briefly, then handing her to someone else so that he could do something on his phone or computer, or both. I envisioned lots of posed photos of the two of them with the baby. I didn’t envision much actual childcare, and well, I knew for a fact his dad would never so much as wipe her face since he never did that with his own sons. Some people are surprised by their parents; in this case, I highly doubted a diaper change or feed would happen.

I think I was about 95% accurate in how I imagined things would be. They’re obviously very happy to be reunited with us and to finally meet their grandchild, but the excitement of meeting the baby tends to wane after a bit, and they get a little bored at times and would rather be on their mobile devices, computers, and sending endless photos of themselves with the baby to relatives for a stream of reactions. There were multiple points of the day when literally every adult was in the room on their mobile phone for prolonged periods of time, and the baby is lying on her belly or back on the mat with no one with her. It was pretty comical to observe. It actually looked a little funny at one point when Chris’s mom was sitting at the table while we were all having drinks outdoors, going through endless photos of the baby on Chris’s phone… while the baby was sitting right in front of her. I thought the whole point of coming was to actually see and spend time with the baby in person?

My friend, who has her mom taking care of her baby two days a week, said that in previous generations, grandparents wanted to be very hands on with their grandchildren in raising and spending time with them. In the current generation of grandparents as she says, grandparents seem more interested in having grandparent bragging rights and using their grandchildren as an accessory in photos. Grandparenting is more of a “hobby.” That may be the case, but no grandparent of our parents’ generation is ever going to admit that to anyone.

The nanny who gained 20 pounds with her nanny family

Our nanny told me today that there were a lot of stereotypes based on the race of nanny families that nannies tend to have. As you’d probably guess, the average family these nanny friends have all worked for has been white, so any time they have worked with a non-white family, any good or bad stereotypes are based on usually just a single family or two. A couple of her nanny friends advised her not to take the job with us: “Chinese and Indian families are so demanding! They will expect so much and treat you terribly! They will nitpick you to death!” She said she didn’t get that sense from us during the trial, so she wanted to give us a chance, and so far, she’s glad she did. We’re the first family she’s ever worked for where she finally felt like she could be herself, she told me. “I feel like I can speak my mind and I won’t get punished for it here,” she said to me. “I can say things like ‘White people,’ and not feel like I just offended you!” She said she was particularly touched when she told me that the Trader Joe O’s I got her didn’t taste the same as Cheerios, and the next day, she saw the Joe O’s were replaced by a box of Cheerios. She said she was really surprised… in a good way. She even went home and told her husband how immediately I acted on that feedback.

Well, not all the stereotypes were bad. One nanny friend asked our nanny if we cooked a lot. She told them I did and would often offer her food, but she told me she had to decline occasionally because she was scared she would gain too much weight. This nanny friend told her that the last Chinese-Indian couple she worked for cooked so much that after just a couple months of working for them, she gained over 20 pounds! Our nanny said she did NOT want to repeat that for herself!

Dysfunctional siblings

I call my mom about once every two weeks now. Since the baby’s arrival, this frequency is probably the most that I can tolerate while still being sane. I recently found out that my uncle, my dad’s brother, had to have hip surgery; one hip had to be completely replaced. My cousin drove him to the hospital while a neighbor picked him up and offered to stay overnight with him to help him out since he’d have limited mobility. My parents have known about the hip surgery this entire time but never called or suggested they come over to visit or help. I knew this would be the case: my dad has a terrible relationship with his one living brother, and he holds grudges against him from their high school days. But eight years ago, when my dad had his heart surgery, my uncle was kind and visited him twice, once in the hospital and once at home. Nine years ago, when my brother died, he took my dad out to eat for his birthday the week after the funeral. He seemingly tried to forge some kind of relationship, but my dad is so socially awkward and blind that he couldn’t see that.

My mom was aware of the surgery, so she asked me about it. I asked her why she had to ask me when she could just call or text him herself. She got pretty angry and basically went off on a tangent, ranting about almost all the things my uncle has done that have been rude or mean or taken advantage of her and my dad. For a while, I just zoned out and did my work as she vented. I’d heard most of these stories before multiple times, but she loves to repeat herself and show she’s always the victim. I don’t doubt the truth in any of these stories, but I also don’t see a reason to constantly talk about the past. It wouldn’t hurt to drop off a single meal for his brother, but I know my dad wouldn’t do it. Grudges run deep with both my parents; forgiveness is not something they believe in.

I never suggested they bring something, though. But she got angry at me and said I’m asking too much to ask her to bring something for him.

“Ummm, do you hear anything that I say on the phone? I never asked you to do anything,” I said, while rolling my eyes internally.

“Oh, you didn’t?” my mom responded. “Well, you should forgive me! I’m disabled!!”

That sounded a bit facetious and sarcastic at the same time, but I let it go.

Using flow to break stagnation

I was re-reading the article about stagnation that Adam Grant wrote during the pandemic. He talked about not being happy or fulfilled, but also not being depressed. He felt something in between the two. He was being productive, so it wasn’t like he was just lazing around doing nothing, but something just didn’t feel right. And he concluded he just felt stagnant.

That’s how I’d been feeling when I went back to work about four weeks ago. I was getting things done, attending Zoom meetings, taking notes, providing action items, getting training done, but I just felt blegh and meh. I didn’t feel fulfilled, and I felt annoyed that I couldn’t be in the next room taking care of my own baby; I couldn’t do the job I really wanted, which was to take care of my own child. A number of mom friends shared this sentiment with me when they returned to work after having their first children. It’s something most moms don’t want to admit out loud in fear of being judged for wanting what is stereotypically female, but they nevertheless feel. I’ve been really lucky in my postpartum journey: I had a quick and easy recovery. I bonded right away with my baby. I started exercising again after six weeks. I had a supportive partner who took an egalitarian approach to parenting. The worst part that I struggled with was pumping, but I finally came to accept it as the choice I actively made for the benefit of my baby and her health. But overall, I really loved and still love my new role as a mother. There is really no job I’ve ever had that has felt more fulfilling and meaningful than this one. So when I started feeling stagnant, I felt kind of guilty. A lot of moms who’d had rough recoveries or postpartum depression/anxiety would kill to be in my shoes.

But in the last week or so, I’ve finally started feeling better. I researched things to do and eat in Philadelphia for our trip. I’ve been actively cooking things I’ve wanted to make and researching more things to cook and bake. It’s part of what Adam Grant says you need to do to break stagnation: find your “flow” where you get totally absorbed into something and just feel energized by it. So no surprise here, but food was my way to do that. I feel a little more like myself and like there is more to life than just my day job and being a pumping princess.

Alphonso mangoes in New Jersey

Yesterday, on our drive back from Philadelphia, Chris had us stop in Edison, New Jersey, to have dosas and poori for lunch, as well as to make a pit stop to get some Indian groceries at Patel Brothers. While Chris tends to focus on his Indian snacks like banana chips and mixture on these runs, I always end up getting the household staples, like fruit, vegetables, freshly baked roti or thepla from the Patel Brothers bakery (the Jackson Heights location has no bakery due to space constraints; it’s not fair!!), beans, frozen goods, etc. As we are currently in mango season, we picked up a box of Mexican Ataulfo mangoes… and Chris pointed at a sign that said, “Indian mangoes: See cashier.”

Eager with anticipation and hope, I asked a cashier about these, and she pointed me to the back of the register, where there were two stacked areas of boxes of Indian mangoes: one pile was for boxes of Alphonso mangoes, also considered the “king of mangoes” in India; the second stack was boxes of kesar mangoes, which we had one of during 2020 when an Indian shop owner gave it as a gift. One box of 11 Alphonso mangoes were $55, while the box of about 6-7 kesar mangoes were $45. The kesar mangoes were about double if not triple the size of the Alphonso mangoes. I really wanted to get both, but given we knew the Ataulfo mangoes would definitely be good, we just got one box each of the Ataulfo and Alphonso mangoes. Fifty-five dollars for 11 Indian Alphonso mangoes shipped on an Air India flight from India to the U.S.: this was by far, the most expensive purchase we’d ever made at Patel Brothers, or any Indian grocery store, for that matter.

I was so excited to bring these home and try them. The Alphonso mangoes were all still green and quite hard when we bought them, but today, they are already starting to get a little softer, and parts of them are turning yellow in color. I can’t wait to have these again. I know we ate Alphonso mangoes while in India the summer of 2018, but I cannot quite remember the flavor or scent at all. I just knew that they were complex and intensely delicious. We can’t go to India now and have their mangoes locally, so this is the best we can do for now. $5 per mango is a small price to pay for this level of deliciousness.

Traveling with baby for the first time

Our baby is just over 24 weeks old, and Chris thought that Memorial Day weekend would be a good long weekend to take a short trip with her away for the first time. He suggested Philadelphia, which I wasn’t initially that excited about, but this destination made sense for a couple reasons: 1) it’s a 2-hour driving distance away, so not too far but not too close, 2) Philly has a great food scene, so it would be fun for us to eat our way through it, plus they have an expanding beer and wine scene, as well. Two nights away in a new environment and new crib would be a good initial test to see how well our baby does with travel and adaptability.

Travel itself with the baby doesn’t really stress me out as it likely does with a lot of first time parents. What stresses me out more is pumping milk while traveling: knowing when to pump, when I can do it with my regular pump vs. portable pump, milk storage and transport — those are the things that make me a little tense when I’m thinking about being mobile and not at home. I ended up just skipping one pump per day during this trip to ensure we’d be more mobile and get from place to place, even though my breasts felt uncomfortable because of it. I made sure to take extra sunflower lecithin pills to prevent any clogs that could happen from doing this. Once your body is on a pumping schedule, it doesn’t really like it when you go off schedule unless you gradually wean.

The baby slept almost the whole drive to Philly, and throughout the trip, she has been in good spirits, smiling and babbling away. She’s only had one little fussy moment while at the winery today, and she has been sleeping well in the big pack-n-play crib that the hotel provided. She’s not used to sleeping with this much space: when we laid her down in it, she spread her arms and legs out wide as though she was an oversized starfish. She can’t really do this in her bassinet that she’s soon to outgrow now. It was cute to see her in new environments and her reactions to different places and things. She’s at this really cute and fun age where she’s responsive to everything but because she can’t speak yet, she can’t give attitude or talk back. I love this current development phase and how cute and sweet she is. I hope she continues to be an easy baby to travel with, especially since a friend of mine keeps warning me that the older she gets, the less adaptable she will be and the more difficult she will be in new surroundings or a new crib/bed.

Ripped nipples

Usually, when “ripped” is used as an adjective to describe how a person looks, it’s meant to be a compliment. So if you tell someone that they look “ripped,” you’re most likely telling them that they have very tight abs or chest muscles, or very sculpted and defined arms. Well, I discovered for myself yesterday what it meant to have “ripped” nipples, and I mean that in the literal sense, as in.. yes, I actually (accidentally) ripped the skin off the sides of both of my nipples. Unfortunately, this had nothing to do with muscles or looking sculpted. It had to do with pumping with improperly fitted flanges and my own cheapness/laziness.

My Legendairy Milk cups came with 24mm and 28mm flanges, as did my primary Spectra pump. I have no idea why these are considered standard flanges sizes considering that over 80% of women have nipples smaller than 24mm, but hey, it is what it is, and likely a way for these companies to make more money by up-charging you anywhere from $10-20 for a smaller flange size. I had pumped while on the go just twice before with the 24mm flanges and these cups plus my Baby Buddha portable pump, and the output was never as good due to the flange size, but I accepted it just for the convenience. Legendairy Milk did not create 17mm flanges for someone like me, as their smallest one was 19mm, so I thought I was out of luck until I discovered the Maymom brand, which has flange tunnel inserts to hack and place into these flanges. I felt cheap, though, and wasn’t really sure how much mobile pumping I would be doing, so I neglected to buy these $15 inserts when I discovered them about two weeks ago.

Well, I pumped while in the car ride to Philly, and the entire time, I had no idea that I was damaging my nipples. I think I have just gotten so desensitized to all things nipple related that I didn’t even feel the skinning of my nipples as it was occurring. Plus, with all the bumps in the road, that is likely how the cups got off centered with my nipples, which then caused the damage. I had read so many stories in the pumping mamas Facebook group about women who had gotten bruised, split, cracked, bloody, and ripped nipples from using the incorrect flange size, but luckily for me, this had never happened. How does this happen, you might ask? So with flange sizing, it’s like Goldilocks: you can’t have your flanges be too small or too big; they need to fit just right for the perfect combination of both maximized comfort AND maximized output. If the flange is too small, you will bruise and split your nipples that are getting constricted. If they are too big, you risk your nipple getting pulled too deeply into the tunnel, thus creating friction on one side of your nipple, which then results in what happened to me — skinning, peeling of your nipple skin.

I didn’t even realize this had happened until I removed the cups when we got to the hotel room. I took them off and immediately noticed that the top of my left nipple was a deep purple color. And then upon examining both sides of my nipples, I realized that the skin was peeling off to reveal a raw, exposed under layer. The pain finally started settling in, and everything and anything that rubbed against my nipples hurt. I applied shea butter to help soothe and repair it, but this rawness will likely last for a while until my skin repaired and healed. Luckily for me, my nipples aren’t bleeding. After physically taking care of this, I logged into my Amazon account and purchased the stupid $15 flange inserts for the cups. This pain and injury was not worth saving $15 for.

This is the shit mothers go through just to feed their babies. Pumping mamas truly have it the hardest. You will never quite understand how annoying and taxing it is to be a pumping mom unless you actually do it yourself.

Wearable pumps: the next great thing in breast milk pumping

Although I got the Legendairy Milk cups to go along with my portable Baby Buddha pump in early March, the problem with this setup is that it’s not really 100 percent wearable: the Baby Buddha pump is portable in that it’s the size of a smart phone and you wear it on a lanyard around your neck, but it actually comes with bottle attachments. That’s what necessitated buying the Legendairy Milk cups for me to hack and wear with the pump. The cups are way, way too big to be discreet (they hold 8 ounces of milk EACH; who the heck pumps 16 ounces of milk in one pump sitting?! Whoever you are, I am super jealous of you!), plus there are still wires attaching the cups to the pump. Well, shortly after I purchased this combination to create a wearable pump for myself, lo and behold, Willow, a high end brand of wearable pumps, releases their next generation of wearable pump that is completely wireless, where you can operate the pump fully from an app on your phone. Each cup is essentially its own breast pump. The programming for stimulation vs. expression mode can be adjusted for each breast, so in case one breast performs better than the other, you can adjust (this is not the norm for the average breast pump, including the Spectra that I own; these assume you want the same settings for both breasts). In addition, this Willow Go pump allows you to customize what size of a cup you want, so the cup you could choose could be smaller (five ounces per cup sounds more discreet and reasonable than eight!). It’s a bit too late for me to get this pump, especially since I already bought the Baby Buddha and have only used it about five times, but if I had to do this all over again, I’d sell my Baby Buddha and buy the Willow Go pump.

One gripe I had with wearable pumps is that you can’t really do breast compressions with them. I also can’t see the milk spraying out, so I wasn’t sure if I’d know when my let down reflex started. Some women can actually feel their let down, and up until the last week, I was not able to feel it. But amazingly, as I’m currently in my 24th week postpartum, I actually started feeling my letdown, which would alert me to change the setting from stimulation mode to letdown /expression mode to maximize my milk output. Now, without even looking, I know when to switch the mode. This has helped me when I’ve needed to pump during work calls. I make sure to position my web cam so that it just reached under my neck, so no one has any idea I am pumping. In addition, I have my Zoom sound setting on so that background noises are blocked out, so no one can hear the subtle “burrrr” sound that my pump makes while on. I’ve never appreciated working from home more than while pumping milk. Pumping in a sad, windowless pumping mom room at work would have been miserable, not to mention I’d be time constrained.

Endless women in my Facebook pumping mamas group have raved about the Willow Go, how it’s really changed their pumping lives because they can literally pump anywhere and no one will know, as these cups are small and flat enough to fit into their bras, so they don’t make pumping women look like they got breast implants. And more impressively, women have also said their output is comparable if not more than using their Spectra pumps, and no need for breast compressions! It’s a $330 investment, so definitely not cheap or a potential impulse buy. If I ever do this again, I would get it, but for now, I’ll stick with my Spectra and my occasional Baby Buddha use.