My Old Foe, the Pump

I've been nursing my baby for over five months now. This is a big deal for me considering we almost didn't make it five days.

It comes as a relief that pretty soon he's going to be eating solids regularly. We have started him on a few foods occasionally, and most recently a little oatmeal almost every day. I still nurse him before any foods so he can get the "good stuff" first. But in a few short weeks, these foods will give him additional vitamins and nutrients in addition to my milk. I feel like I'm off the hook a little.

You see, the amount of breast milk I've pumped has always been a "thing". It's a source of constant anxiety for me, made even worse because our daycare provider kept asking for more. I was afraid of getting to a point where I couldn't pump enough to keep up with him. And what's the worse that could happen -- formula makes up the amount I can't provide? That's not a big deal (to a normal, non-crazy person).

I talked before about where I pump at work. I had several people comment that it was so unfair I had to pump in a closet while sitting on the floor. I completely disagree. Knowing the state of breast feeding, I'm extremely lucky to have an out of the way place that's not a bathroom. It was my choice to sit on the floor because in all honesty, the room was kind of cramped and it was sort of awkward to have a chair and not have a table where I could set my pump.

The other day, our secretary cleaned out the closet and when I went in later, she'd rolled in a chair, a table and a radio for me. She made a new "Do Not Disturb" sign for the door and put all my magazines in a cute wicker basket. It really moved me that she took the time to do it, knowing how much breast feeding means to me.

My new digs.

Here's where I spill my deep, dark secret, a secret I'm sure I share with any mother who either works or is exclusively pumping: I hate my pump.

I mean, I sort of dig it. It's the Caddy of pumps. I was excited when I got it because I thought, "hooray! No more worries about milk!"

Until his bottles started increasing. Until I realized it's pretty difficult to pump at work every 3 hours. Until I saw that piddly 3 oz bottle after 15 minutes of pumping and that little voice in my head said, "You can't keep up."

I'm getting resentful of that pump. I hate that I have to be connected to it so much. I hate all the cords to plug in, the parts I have to wash. I hate that after my baby goes to bed, I have to drag out that beast and pump instead of doing things I enjoy doing. I hate having to carry it in every day, or remembering to stick the cord in the bag, or making sure the bottle cooler has frozen.

On the other hand, when I make the bottles at night with milk I've pumped, I feel very proud of myself for keeping it up.

I'm not planning on giving it up. My goal is one year and then I'll probably have to since I think I'm only legally entitled to all those breaks for one year. I'm OK with that, too. The pump is a necessary evil in my life, and I'll keep doing battle with my old foe until he's weaned.

It's a labor of love, but I won't be sad to see that pump go back into the closet.

What's your labor of love? What do you resent, but love at the same time?

Oh, hey, by the way, I did a review of a nursing cover called Baby Bond over at my friend Laurie's blog (Steals & Deals for Kids). She's giving away a cover! check it out!