Today marks exactly a month after I quit breastfeeding my child so I thought to write about breastfeeding. I thought this would elicit a feeling of pure euphoria for me but what I didn’t expect is the also the feeling of sadness. For the past year, I have dedicated my life to a 30-minute pumping session every 3 to 4 hours. Everyday, I would squeeze out whatever I can and feed it to my ever-demanding baby. I am not one of those moms that produce a lot of milk. I am not even one of those moms who can produce enough. In fact, it was downright measly.
It is exactly for this reason that I decided to exclusively pump so my baby can still get milk from me. In a day, I collect all the sessions I pumped and can whip up a bottle of feed for my baby. It’s not much (at all) but I’m grateful for what I can get. You can only imagine the agony I felt whenever those precious liquids get wasted due to baby’s don’t-want-to-drink-milk tantrums. Whoever said don’t cry over spilled milk does not breastfeed couldn’t be more truer. Cracked and sore nipples are a small price to pay in exchange for my baby’s better nutrient intake.
Such is the life of a struggling new mom.
I would always compare pumping milk as the equivalent of driving. You sit and drive, yet its tiring. I feel the same with pumping. The only thing that’s driving my determination is the health benefits that my baby can get from that meager bottle I produce everyday. Although, I did use my pumping session as small “coffee break” to keep me from draining out. Nonetheless, I am boxing away my trusty and overused pumps with a sense of achievement. Not as a successful breastfeeding journey as I would have wanted to, yet still grateful for what I’ve accomplished. After a year of solidary pumping, I am proud to say you will be sorely missed—pun intended.