Packing up the pump…for good (but mourning the loss of nursing)

I started this post on September 29, one week after Emma's first birthday.  But then I started thinking I should wait until I was really done pumping, and since I had one more work trip in mid-November, I put it off.  Then next thing I know it's December and I haven't finished my homage to pumping and nursing, and yet I'm done nursing! :(  So, here it is…a little late, but better than never.

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September 29, 2014:
I've started getting all the signs that it's really time to stop pumping: my little yellow sticky note that I used to affix to my office door during pumping sessions just lost its "stick" right when Emma turned one (literally the first day I was back at work after her birthday!), then one week later the zipper strap on my trusty bottle cool bag (that I've been using to transport my milk bottles to/from work since I pumped with Evan) ripped and came off, and on top of these signs from the universe, I'm completely losing all willpower to take the time to pump now as well.   It really is time…time to say goodbye (and perhaps good riddance) to the pump once and for all.

However, while I will stop pumping at work now, I do still plan to nurse Emma morning and night and then she will just drink cow's milk for her bottles during the day.  So, since I have a work trip coming up in November, I can't quite say I'm done with the pump for good yet.

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Early in October 2014:
I finally brought home my office pump.  I cannot say enough how handy it was to have two pumps this time around.  One to keep permanently in my office and the other at home and for travel.  I think having a new pump for the office was a good thing since it also had more power to it.  My old one just sounded tired from the year's worth of use it got when I was pumping for Evan.

But there was something about packing it up for good and bringing it home that made me sad.  I certainly wasn't going to miss pumping, so that wasn't it.  I think part of it was that since I had been doing it for nearly a year it felt surreal that I wouldn't need it anymore.  I had formed a habit to pump a few times per day in my office with that pump by my desk.  A good habit I think, and since habits are hard to break (especially for me since I have a hard time with change) it was just hard for me to actually pack it up.  Once I did, I didn't feel too much remorse about it, but rather felt like a little celebration was in order.  There is something about the fact that I'll never have to pump again that is quite exciting and freeing.

And yet, then there is the bittersweet side of that coin.  If I never have to pump again, that means I'll (soon) never be nursing again.  A very special and unique time in my life as a mother, and I definitely wasn't ready to let that go.

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Early November 2014:
Emma started to want more milk after I'd nurse her at bedtime.  She started getting very frustrated after nursing on me for just a few minutes.  I think she was not patient enough for my milk to come, but also not pleased with the level of supply that was left.  So John suggested we give her a bottle of cow's milk after I nursed her to finish filling her up before bed.  We did that for a few nights, until I realized how much of a pain it is to nurse and then still fix/feed a bottle to her.  Therefore, my bedtime nursing sessions came to a fairly abrupt end. :(

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November 11-13, 2014:
Work trip to Wyoming.  On one of the coldest weeks I've ever experienced.  I took my hand pump with me, because I didn't feel like bringing a big suitcase again (recall my travel with the pump required so much more "stuff") and I only needed to pump once per day anymore anyway and wasn't going to save the milk either.  However, on the first morning I quickly realized that I had nothing left.  Granted, the hand pump isn't as effective as the double electric, but seriously, I tried for quite some time and only got a few drops and a serious cramp in my hand.  What had Emma been getting all the past few mornings other than comfort?  Needless to say, I didn't bother trying to pump the second morning.

November 14, 2014:
I had gotten home from my trip the night before and couldn't wait to see the kids in the morning and nurse Emma.  I figured if I had anything left, she'd be the most effective means to get to it.  However, that was the most uncomfortable nursing session I'd had with her.  She bit me a little due to frustration that the milk wasn't coming, and suddenly it just didn't feel right anymore.  And, as a result, that was my last time nursing her.  I didn't know that, however, until the next day when I woke up and could tell I had nothing, and so didn't even bother trying.  Instead, I made her a bottle of cow's milk and all was well.  Except for me, because I was trying to accept that was my last time nursing her. Why am I so hung up on this?  I think because if I had known that was going to be my last time, maybe I would have tried to cherish it a bit more?  Don't get me wrong, I cherished all of the many times I got to nurse her over her nearly 14 months of life (especially because I knew that I wasn't planning on having any more children), but I didn't think it would end this soon. I went at least a few more months with Evan, and had every intention of going longer with her too.  At least until her and I both felt ready to stop.  And I guess that this was the day, except that I just didn't want it to end.  I didn't want to think about how she isn't a baby anymore, about how I most likely will never nurse again, about how such a special and unique phase in my life had suddenly just come to an end.

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Epilogue:
We left on our trip to visit family the next day so I didn't really get time to "mourn the loss" of nursing coming to an end.  I didn't really have time to soak up the fact that it was my last time nursing.  John suggested I could nurse her again a few days after that just to have one more time.  But I didn't want to.  I knew it had not felt right that last time and so I didn't want to try to force something like that.  I just knew I needed time to accept this change.  To mourn this loss. To allow myself to let go of that phase and welcome the next.  And so here I am, almost one month later still reeling about the fact that it ended so abruptly and I didn't know it was my last time until it was over.  But I think I'm now ready to move on and let it go.  Writing this blog post is my first step to help me do that, so I will forever remember this important milestone in my (and Emma's) life.

And so I say good riddance to the pump, and the nursing bras, and the alcohol limitations, and the inability to take cold medicine and supplements when I get ill.  And I welcome the bottles, that Emma can now feed herself, which is a huge help on a busy and hectic morning getting ready for daycare/work.  And I welcome the new milestones as Emma learns how to talk, and eats more new foods, and learns to feed herself with spoons and forks, and grows up into a little girl before my eyes.  I don't want to waste any more time feeling sad about something that happened yesterday, because if I do I might miss that next milestone that's happening today.