Why do it? If I find
it to be such a pain, then why bother? It’s
simple: I just plain love nursing. And thankfully, my babies always have as well,
so it has worked for us. I couldn’t care
less if other people nurse or use formula, or give their babies goat milk or
coconut milk, or milk derived from any other source, or heck, Fresca (do they
still make Fresca?! Man, I bet the babies would love some Fresca). And while I love nursing, I also love my job. And I love the occasional freedom of being
away from my child for more than 3 hours. So….enter the pump: the single most magical
and hated monstrosity for many a woman of child bearing age.
This little frenemy of mine has followed me to multiple
states for both business and pleasure. I’ve
pumped in every office building my employer has in this town, as well as
countless days in my own office (chair against the non-locking door, swirling
in a sea of panic when someone knocked).
I’ve pumped in cars, on buses and airplanes, in the airport, in bathroom
stalls, and in parking lots. I’ve ducked
out of weddings and funerals, planned meetings around my pump schedule, and
dealt with the fact that I often just couldn’t plan around it. I’ve filled the freezer with carefully
labeled bags of liquid gold, and faithfully (with the assistance of my husband)
gotten out the supply to thaw for the next day.
So today, as I recently celebrated the first birthday of
another child, I also celebrate the ceremonial packing away of the pump. I celebrate and reflect because I know there are
many other mommas out there carting around their own frenemy, stressing about
supply and mastitis and plugged ducts, and wondering if their next destination
will accommodate the need to pump. I
know you, sweet mommas. I know your
challenges and worries, and I see the sacrifices you make. I know you’re worried about what you eat and drink,
constantly monitoring how it impacts that precious babe. I know you’re afraid to take Tylenol, even
though they say it’s safe. I see you
glancing at the clock, calculating the time to the next feeding and trying to
recall how much milk is in the fridge at home to determine whether you can have
just a few sips of precious red wine with dinner. I applaud you for sticking with it, when it
was so easy to give up so many times. And
whether you nursed for 2 weeks or 2 years, whether you gave your baby only
breastmilk or 20% breastmilk, you did it.
It’s hard on your body, and it’s hard on you. I get that.
Stop and take a minute to pat yourself on the back. I will even allow myself that luxury
today. Damn girl, you done good.
