I have a dream.
It involves a heavy mallet and my breast pump. It involves the heavy mallet being smashed down upon my breast pump. It involves my breast pump disintegrating into a million small pieces.
Every day my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to extract an extra 4 ounces of “booby juice” from my breasts, so that James can give Baby her dream feed at 11pm. I’ve also used it as a way to help increase my milk production, which I’ve struggled with since my 16th day of motherhood.
At the height of my expressing days, I was doing it seven times a day. At 15 minutes per session, that’s a lot of time. I sterilise the parts so often (6 minutes full power) that when I went to defrost my pizza the other night, I accidentally sterilised it. Thankfully, it still tasted okay after I put it in the oven.
When I started pumping a couple weeks after Baby was born, I’d get anywhere from half an ounce to one ounce, which is diddley squat. One time I managed 2.5 ounces in a sitting and almost had an orgasm of joy. It’s amazing what gets me excited these days.
Now, I seem to be reaping the rewards of my obsessive pumping and my production has increased. In one day, I can easily get my 4 ounces out plus a couple ounces to freeze. I’ve currently got 24 frozen ounces in the drawer of the freezer. Sometimes I look at it like it’s a treasure trove. My Cave of Milk. My Precioussssssssss.
I’ve had to cut back to expressing 4 times per day for the sake of my sanity. I dropped out the middle of the day pumping, as I seem to have less milk then anyway. I can promise you that I will be having a party to celebrate the day I put the pump away for good.
The thing that nobody tells you before you have a baby is that breastfeeding is hard (for some people, anyway). But then again, things worth doing are hard. I ran the London Marathon in 2002 and that was hard, but it’s also one of my proudest achievements. That’s sort of how I feel about breastfeeding.
Still I sometimes expect to hear Sonny and Cher singing to me when I get up every morning, waking me from my dream of destroying my breast pump. Then it’s change nappy, feed, play, sleep, pump. And repeat.