WARNING: This post talks about boobs. Divert your eyes if that makes you queasy.
Last night I thawed the last three bags of frozen breastmilk for bottles and packed away my breast pump. I was kind of surprised at the emotions that came with putting that pump away. On one hand, I was happy to give the pump the official F-OFF because I seriously hate that machine. What do I hate most? Pumping at work while trying to reply to e-mails, grade papers, and attend meetings and conferences; the noise of the machine; cleaning flanges and valves; the expense of special freezer bags; people interrupting me. And by interrupt, I mean unlocking my door and walking in as if they are invited to the party.
That happened to me twice–by custodial staff and a parent volunteer. Yep, someone gave a parent a master key in the front office, and she let herself into my classroom. Never mind the safety concerns there or the sign on the door that clearly said, “DO NOT DISTURB.” But I digress…
On the other hand, it means Thing 3 is one more step away from babyhood, and that makes me sad. At 11-months old, he has 10 teeth, including two molars, and I followed his cues to wean. He’s my last baby (okay, maybe I’m still in denial about that), and we’ll never have those special moments again. Waaahhhh…
In honor of the occasion, I offer this poem to honor the hard work of those mammary glands and my pump.
Boobs being macerated by tiny teeth.
Relax and just let it flow.
Engorged? Not anymore!
Adding to my
To keep my baby full. Meanwhile,
Pulling and pinching my
Udders, I try to ignore. Now
My lactation has come to a close, and that means it’s time for more
Lame and dorky, I know.
As a side note–I discovered Latched Mama nursing apparel with this kiddo. Her hoodies are amazing, and she’s a local RVA designer. Check her out!
We will be celebrating Thing 3’s first birthday in less than four weeks! I cannot believe how fast the year has passed, and he is turning into such a playful, opinionated little boy.
“Feed me now!” he says.