Boob Job

It’s that time again. The time when I really have to motivate myself to keep on pumping at work. Madeline’s growing so fast and getting hungrier, so I increased the amount of milk in her bottles for daycare. I kind of panicked when I picked her up yesterday -- her teachers told me that she slurped the bigger bottles down like they were nothing. I was secretly hoping that she wasn’t going to take the extra milk I sent. But, she did, so the pump and I meet again. And again. And again.

I’ve started to look at my pump as my business partner. We’re in this for the long haul. This is our second business venture, this one going on five months with another seven to go. My boobs are our employees. The left one is definitely a gold star employee, but the right one is completely insubordinate. I’d just as soon fire it, but it won’t leave. It refuses to produce the amount necessary. So, I have to pump and pump and pump. I even try to psyche my boobs out into producing more -- sometimes I picture rivers of milk coming out or I think of how cute Madeline is. Is that weird?

Just today, I fed Madeline this morning, pumped twice at work and another time at home, then fed her two more times before going to bed. And, that’s not counting the one or two overnight feedings. And, since the pump doesn’t pull out as much milk as Madeline would, I have to use the dang thing more often than I’d like to make three bottles for daycare each day.

With Luke, I stopped breastfeeding at seven months mainly because I just despise pumping. I regret not sticking with it, so I’m committed to going for a year for Madeline. The pump and I will continue our meetings. For the next seven months.