I commented in my last post that I feel like I have been pregnant or breastfeeding for the last 8 years. And for all that time, I've been a working mom. Which means that along with breastfeeding comes pumping.
I hate pumping. I hate hooking myself up to the pump like a cow in a milking station. I hate how much time it takes. I hate having to schedule my day around it. I hate that I have to paper over my office window to have privacy while I pump because it makes my office feel closed off and claustrophobic. I hate that even with all the time, effort, and money (I have tried a LOT of different pumps over the years - and they are pricey!), I still can't pump enough to avoid supplementing with formula. (Mind you, I'm not one who thinks that formula is inherently bad. I'm fine with formula on a philosophical level. But it's really expensive!)
But because I'm trying to do my best as a working mom, I keep pumping. I set a date for myself: "If I can just keep pumping until he's one, I'll be successful." And then I would give myself permission to quit. And guess who will turn one on Monday? That's right, hard as it is to believe, it's already been a year since our little sweetheart was born. And it's a bittersweet thought. My baby... my last baby... and he's turning one already.
So while I'll keep nursing him morning and night as long as he's interested (well, within reason... I'm not going to be one of those moms nursing a 5-year-old), I have officially just finished my last pumping session. I am free from the tyranny of the pumping schedule! I no longer have to attach myself to the milking machine! (Though it is a really nice pump - anyone looking to buy a double-electric Medela Pump In Style?) I don't have to cart home little baggies of milk each night - always hoping that I remember to put them away in the fridge when I get home. (Because there's nothing worse than going to the effort to pump, and then wasting the milk.) I am free!!
And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go tear the paper off my office window.