Low Supply

Counting ounces and tears

Hello Listeners! We are rolling along here at Parenting is a Joke with all of the things: Covid scares, fevers, floods, missed deadlines, weird Facetimes, and for me, more guilt from the road! I figured out how to change my face on FaceTime with my son to different memojis, and guess which one he wants me to be for all calls now? The poop one. Yup. And like a guilty puppet, I'm just doing it.

We have a great NEW episode with one of the hardest-working comics out there, Michelle Buteau! She is currently touring live, plus she has a series on Netflix and an episode with us that you can listen to now!

Conclusion: it's a feat trying to be creative while also trying to be a parent – or trying to do anything while trying to be a parent. 

I remember about a month after I had my son; I was trying to figure out how to get back on stage. I wanted to prove that I was still a comedian - I hadn't lost myself; I was more than the late nights alone with a screaming infant. Looking back, I'm not sure how I managed. And I did crawl back on stage. I pulled my best maternity jeans over my postpartum body and maybe brushed my hair. (I still miss those jeans)

There I was back at shows that started at 7, 8, 9 pm, and subwaying back home at 11 pm thinking, oh my god, I have to get up in just a few hours!

I'd haul my breast-pumping supplies to clubs and venues and pump before shows in dusty storage closets and coat check nooks – because guess what comedy clubs and theaters don't have? Pumping rooms! But can you imagine if clubs had a "pump room?" It would so quickly become “the coke room.” And I wasn't even a good breastfeeder – I only could get a bit coming out of one, so I had to push my body to the limit. 

I had it in my head that I had to, so I pumped around the clock for months. And to make it worse, I didn't have anyone to talk to because all the parents in my neighborhood had somewhat regular-houred day jobs, or were not working, and complained about having too much milk. I ached to find other women in the same situation and start a band called Low Supply. I'd play bass. 

I walked around my apartment pretty much naked from the waist up for 5 months. You'd think my husband would love that, some woman, in his house, topless day in and day out, but I was also crying, going, I can't do this, I can't do this. So my apartment was the saddest strip club on the planet.
Like a corner of Porn Hub you really, really didn't mean to click on. 

I wish someone would have taken me aside and told me that I didn't have to work at the same pace I did before or expect that I could. And that it would build. And I know this is perhaps controversial, but I wish someone told me to stop pumping and breastfeeding earlier.

I felt conflicted when I stopped, but I didn't want to renew the lease on the industrial hospital pump for another 6 months. But once I let it go… and it was the best decision. My son put on weight, chugging formula, and I stopped sobbing daily, tethered by tubes, while listening to the sound of that pump rhythmically telling me I wasn't good enough. I started to live life again, and my family benefited. So, as we say on the internet – I don't know who needs to read this – but I wish I had!

Also, we made t-shirts to commemorate my journey. If you'd like one, you can get it here.

Check out this week's podcast episode of Parenting is a Joke with Michelle Buteau, and look forward to next week's guest, comedian, and TikTok/Instagram sensation Alyce Chan!