Spilled Milk

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Oh! How I cried the day of the first spillage.  It was winter and I’d gone out to Tavistock for the afternoon with Babybum and my parents and had carried along enough milk for my small, voracious child.  We were on our way home (a 25 minute journey) when DD decided her stomach thought her throat had been cut, so terrible was her hunger.  In those early weeks, if she didn’t get her milk immediately, the world would end so I pulled over the car so Mum could sit in the back and give her her bottle as we travelled in the dark.  All seemed to be going well and I could hear the right contented, slurpy sounds coming from the back seat.  However, after about two minutes, my mum said the bottle was empty and asked if I had some more. Now I knew that that bottle contained at least 140 mls which was more than enough for the hungry one.  I stopped the car to see what had happened and to my utter horror I found Babybum’s clothes completely drenched and a completely empty bottle.  The teat hadn’t been screwed on properly.  My poor mother was devastated and my reaction was not exactly calm.  

Since that first spillage, many more drops have fallen by the wayside and, although initially I still feel the horror as the white elixir of baby health pools on the floor, nowadays I just take a deep breath and get on with the next pumping session.

Bad Pump Days

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Oh yes, these happen.  I’d say at least once a week I hate my pump.  I hate sterilising.  I hate the four hourly sit down.  I hate the smell of milk.  I hate having to strip off.  I hate the whole bloody affair.

On these days, I’ll generally cry a lot, go beyond the four hours, feel guilty, eat lots of chocolate, shout at someone, go icy on someone (poor someone - he knows who I mean) and generally feel extremely sorry for myself.

Then I pump, go to bed, wake up the next morning, see Babybum smile and hear her coo and lo, the world is a good and happy place again (apart from the war-torn parts, of course).

Baby Tears, Lady Tears

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Though this has now mostly passed, I’m going to write about some of the worst moments in my pumping life: the times when my dear, beautiful baby was lying down beside me, crying, in need of attention and I had to sit there and pump with no spare hand to stroke her, let alone pick her up and cuddle her. There were times when the pair of us were crying and not succeeding in drowning out the incessant whining of the pump.  This made me feel like such a terrible mother - was it worth it?  I’d feel like this whole pumping malarky was ridiculous if it meant that holding my child was impossible. 

The answer?  Hands free pumping bra, of course.  Why I didn’t invest from the start I’ll never know… These days I can feed Babybum while pumping.  OK, so she grabs the bottles every now and then, and tries to eat the tubes but that’s only fair - she’s a curious babe.