After 388 days, I’m officially done. 12 ½ months of pumping and nursing. 2,376 sessions and more than 500 hours spent making milk. HOLY COW. Literally. I felt like a cow much of the time.
I had no plans to nurse and pump for as long as I did, but the coronavirus pandemic meant more time at home and canceled travel plans, so I just kept on going because I could. And to be honest, wrapping up this journey is bittersweet.
For 54 weeks, my life revolved around my boobs. I set my schedule according to my baby and found myself pumping more than I actually nursed her.
I pumped milk in the parking lot of a college football stadium. I nursed my daughter in the car at a pumpkin patch. I pumped milk twice a day at work, often paranoid that someone might barge in or worried that I forgot to lock the door to the private room. I nursed my daughter in the bathroom at Target. I pumped milk during Zoom “happy hour” with my childhood friends.
During my 2300+ nursing sessions, I binge watched dozens of TV shows. I found myself shocked when I would reach episode 100 of a show (Stacey, get up off the couch!), but I also relished the peace and quiet during the chaos of the newborn phase.
For 388 days, I scheduled date nights, grocery store runs, working out and everything in between, all around feeding my child. At 11-months-old, my baby decided she was done nursing, but I kept pumping with the new goal of reaching her first birthday.
In the past 388 days, I’ve cried tears of joy because my body could produce milk for my child, something that so many women struggle with. I’ve sobbed because I spilled my “liquid gold”, losing several ounces of hard-earned milk. And I’ve teared up watching my baby who used to nuzzle so perfectly in my arms, grow up before my eyes.
The breastfeeding and pumping journey is exhausting. It’s painful at times, it tugs at those heart strings, and it is so darn time consuming, but it’s also so rewarding. Here’s to the next chapter for my baby…and here’s to chucking that breast pump in the dumpster!