Six years ago when my son was born, I made the decision that I was going to exclusively breastfeed. But as a working mom, that also meant I made the decision to pump in order to supply enough to feed him during the day. So his birth also started my relationship with pumping.
As a teacher, I get the summer off. However, he was born in February. So after I took my eight weeks of leave, I still had to return back to work for a few weeks until school got out. About four weeks after having him, I started to pump milk to get some stored up. During this time, I decided that pumping was close to the worst thing ever. You are confined to one spot. Your nipples get stretched and pulled. You feel like a cow. It takes a while to get what you need. And I realized, you have to time it right with feedings if you are building a stash. Because it never failed, if I didn’t time it right, baby would be hungry and my boobs would be empty and there goes that bottles worth I just spend twenty minutes pumping.
Since I am a PE teacher, I don’t have a classroom. And at the time, my “office” (read: desk) was in the middle of the main office area. So then came the “where am I supposed to pump?” fun. I literally had to go door to door in the office and ask whoever I could find if I could pump in their office. I had to do this multiple times a day, but my main pumping time was during lunch. So I got to shove my food in my face while holed up in someone else’s office who I either let stay in there with me while I pumped so they could get work done (and enjoy the show!), or excused themselves and then couldn’t do their work while I was in their office.
The summer didn’t make it end. I had to replenish and increase the stash for the fall when school would start again. And then, come fall comes more daily knocking and flashing and excusing myself and apologizing for coming between people and their work. I pumped until Dru turned one. And I hated every SINGLE freaking minute of it. Just the THOUGHT of having to pump again any time soon was enough birth control for me. I got anxiety just thinking about the sound it made. ::shudder::
Fast forward five years and I was about to have my daughter and, again, decide to exclusively breastfeed. And…ughhhhhh…PUMP. NOOOOOO!!! But, if I am going to do something, I am going to go for it whole hog. This time I dedicated myself to pumping until the end of this school year. Meaning pumping for 14.5 months. This time around I had an office I could pump in and I also bought the car lighter adapter so I could pump in the car which was great. But also this time I had issues with one of my nipples. It did NOT like pumping for some reason. No matter what I did – bigger phalanges, applying coconut oil or other slippery products, I had problems. Painful, agonizing, problems. But, I powered through.
And now, here I am. I am one day away from never having to pump ever again. Ever. I made it!
But now, what do I do with it? I know there are some moms out there that probably couldn’t afford a good pump and I could donate it. I also have a friend that I told I could give it to her in case her pump crapped out. I’ll tell you what I WANT to do with it. I WANT TO GO OFFICE SPACE ON IT! Like THIS: (foul language warning!)
I want to take it to a field and just go ham with a baseball bat. I want to watch as its parts shatter and spread out around it in thousands of pieces. I want to stand and jump on it. I want to kick it. I want to spit on it. I want to make it feel pain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, I know it’s an inanimate object and can not feel pain. Yes, I know that these machines helped me provide my milk to my babies. Yes, I know there are tons of women out there that would give anything to be able to pump milk at all, let alone for as long as I was able to. I know all of these things. But that doesn’t change how I feel about it.
So let’s hear it. What should I do. Donate? Pass it on? Or TRASH THAT EFFER!?
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