Ok. This post is about breast milk and the pumping of it. If you are of the male persuasion you may continue reading...or not.
I am going out tonight. I have a dinner date with a bunch of my girlyfriends. In preparation, I thawed some breast milk for Timothy. As I finished pouring the milk into a bottle, my BUSY AND HELPFUL daughter grabbed the bottle off the counter to twist the top on. Well, that is what should have happened. Instead, 5 ounces of white gold poured over the counter, down the Black Gem dishwasher and puddled on the floor. I burst into tears. Why? Because, I alone know the hours spent hooked up to the breast pump, praying for let-down. Mama and her machine day after day, trying to stock the freezer. Frozen breast milk spells freedom for a nursing mom. Freedom to go out and let someone else feed the baby.
I am now calm. I am in my happy place. No use cryin over spilled breast milk.
6 comments:
Thanks Jane. What, no comment from Joey or Pat? Go figure.
Well, I'm still trying to figure out what it means to be of the male "persuasion." Is it an option? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you don't have to persuade me!
I am persuaded that I don't envey being able to dispense liquid (albeit living giving) subtances from my breasts if that is what you mean.
LOL! Okay, I'll go with that.
I don't care how they're persuaded. Having spent ten good years of my life nursing babies (who grow up to become ungrateful creatures that spill milk on your counters) and am currently spending upwards of eight hours a day keeping one of God's precious gifts nourished, I will spend a moment in silence in honor of your loss, Carla.
Thank You Joeys mom, keithslady.
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