As nursing has become more enjoyable, pumping, I’m realizing, is quite the chore.
I mean, I’m doing it. Once or twice or three times a day to build up a stash for B when I return to work. But it’s not my favorite thing. While nursing is a lovely break in our hours together where I can look at the beautiful head and hands and feet I created, pumping is something I do while I’m half asleep, or while I could be napping with Benjamin or getting to the three craft projects I’ve started (ha!).
Two weeks ago we gave B a bottle for the first time. I pumped into it and Chris offered it to baby. Once B discovered what was inside, he did wonderfully. A true champ.
I, however, went into meltdown mode and cried when I saw him gulping so willingly out of that foreign object. My first thought was, THAT BOTTLE IS PLASTIC! PLASTIC IS EVIL! My second thought was, ONE DAY BENJAMIN WILL GO TO KINDERGARTEN. THEN HE’LL GET MARRIED! AAAAAACK! And my life flashed before my eyes and my heart broke in half.
But then I came to again and realized the scene unfolding before me was fantastic. My husband was able to bond with our baby in the most intimate way–by feeding him. All because of pumping.
Because I’m able to pump my milk, other special people in Benjamin’s life can also bond with him at mealtimes by giving him a bottle.
I imagine I will learn soon, that pumping will also give me a different kind of freedom to be out and about and offer our baby a bottle when breastfeeding isn’t convenient.
Cheers to that nasty little machine of mine!