Tuesday, May 17, 2011

You have not lived

until you spill the hard earned 10 ounces of breast milk you pumped in your car at a conference in Tulsa today all over your kitchen floor in an attempt to transfer from collection bottle to freezer bag, then collapse to the floor in tears watching your hard work (not to mention missed presentations as you were in your car hooked up for all the grounds workers to see) spread across your sloped tile, only to be non-comforted by your babydaddy who suggests that next time you should be more careful.  Seriously, it's the best. 

Breastfeeding is great and all that shit, I know, but it is hard work, at least for me.  Pumping is a part-time job - storage, clean up, sterilization of parts, toting pump to and fro, timing, wrist fatigue from holding the damn things, nipple wreckage, labeling, organizing, watching it go to waste when someone feeds six ounces instead of four (he doesn't need that much yet!!!).  Dudes, it's liquid gold and just as hard to mine.  There's been oversupply, undersupply interruption of supply, changes in medications, severe engorgement, soaking through clothing, probable mastitis, drinking of disgusting lactation promotion tea and liter upon liter of water.  And the best thing is, your supply is negatively impacted when you're stressed.  HOW CAN YOU NOT BE EFFING STRESSED!?  You just had a baby shoot out of you, you function on zero sleep, you go back to work and now you have to be relaxed so that you can successfully pump and feed?  Blergh.  My boobs need a vacation and it's only month two.  It's going to be a long road to 12 months.

But, this is why I do it:


Also, fear of social ostracizing. No, really it's money saving.  Formula is expensive, yo!

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