Mommypants Moment – Bane of her existence
by Cheryl, posted on May 23rd, 2011 in Mommypants Moment
Today’s Mommypants Moment comes from Ilana of Mommy Shorts. I think I found her one day on twitter when we were trying to create an outfit out of blogs that had Mommy followed by clothes of some sort. Anyway, what I love about Ilana is she’s funny. Really, really funny, with a dry sense of humor I really appreciate. This post definitely brought back memories for me!
I never had any doubt that I would breastfeed. I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever, so if you tell me breast milk is the healthiest thing for the baby, that’s what I’m going to give her. Besides, I’m not one to pass up a calorie burning opportunity that I can accomplish sitting down.
Since I was going back to work after my three month maternity leave, feeding the baby breastmilk was going to involve some mechanics. Specifically – a breast pump. Or as I affectionately came to call it – “The Bane of My Existence”.
My first day back at work, I carried around that nondescript black bag like a third arm, hopping in and out of meetings desperately trying to meet my breastfeeding schedule and trying to convince myself that disrobing in a dingy closet dubbed “The Lactation Room” fit my needs just fine. Seriously. That room had an outlet, a sink and a chair. It looked like a place Jack Bauer would torture suspected terrorists.
But the pump also made it possible for me to breastfeed Mazzy every morning when she woke up and every night before she went to sleep. Two moments I wouldn’t trade for all the convenience in the world. (The 3 a.m. feedings were a different story.)
So the pump became a permanent appendage, my annoying unshakeable sidekick— accompanying me to every client meeting, taking up more than it’s fair share of my suitcase whenever I traveled, interrupting dinner on the (very) occasional night out. Always there to serve as a constant reminder that my life was no longer my own.
In time, I learned which shirts were the easiest to rip off, the most efficient method of assembling and breaking down the various pumping components (if there is a competition somewhere, point me to it) and most important – how to cram the plastic bags of milk into the freezer bag with the least risk of explosion. Despite one horrible moment when I emerged from “The Lactation Room” with my dress tucked into my tights IN THE FRONT, I have to say – as inconvenient as it was to pump several times a day, it also made me feel connected to the baby while I was away from home.
At nine months, Mazzy was no longer interested in breastfeeding. My last attempt was met with screaming, struggling and a “boob pummeling” that put the cabash on my efforts entirely. But I had my sights set on a year, so I continued to pump.
Let me tell you – pumping without actually breastfeeding is not the most rewarding of jobs.
Every time I opened that bag and started to screw together the little bottles, I swear I sighed “The Sigh Heard Round the World.” My bra choices were stretched out and depressing, my boobs were screaming for a spa day, and I was sick of asking stranger after stranger if there was a good place to plug myself in.
Three months later, on Mazzy’s first birthday, I finally let myself off the hook. I celebrated the retirement of the pump by throwing out my nursing bras and finding a nice comfortable home for “The Bane of My Existence” on an unreachably high shelf in the back of my closet. The first night I went to bed without pumping as part of my bedtime routine was a glorious, glorious thing.
But then, a few days later, Mazzy woke in the middle of the night with a stomach virus. She cried and cried but nothing I did would soothe her. Not her blankie. Not her pacifier. Not a bottle.
Even though it had been months since I had actually breastfed, I decided to give it one last shot.
To my surprise, she latched on immediately and took full advantage of what little milk I had left. And as her screams quieted and her body relaxed against mine, suddenly the year I had spent toting around that godawful bag made sense. It had led me to this moment of pure maternal bliss.
That was the last time I breastfed my daughter.
It’s a beautiful memory that I owe completely to the horror show of tubing in the back of my closet.
Tags: breast pump, breastfeeding, Mommy Shorts, mommypants moment
elizabeth Says:
Lara Says:
Sam Says:
Ilana @ mommyshorts Reply:
May 23rd, 2011 at 12:49 pm
Thanks Varda! I am really so happy for that last chance at creating that memory. Because the moment that I THOUGHT was my last time, wasn’t exactly an apt reward for all my effort.
Ilana @ mommyshorts recently posted..Mommy Shorts Meets Mommy Pants
[Reply]