Remember Dr. Seuss Day as kids? You ate green eggs and ham and read a few of his books. One of my personal favorites was ‘Oh, the Places You’ll Go’ where they ramble off all of these directions you could go where good or bad things could happen to you. Well, when you pump for a baby, it’s a lot like that.
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
I remember my first baby, breastfeeding was the number one cause of anxiety in my life, and pretty sure a large contributing factor to having a bit of postpartum depression. I was living in a constant fear of running out of breast milk and having to supplement {thank you, childbirth classes for brainwashing me}. I would nurse all day then attempt to pump when I could. When I went back to work, I had a minimal freezer stash. And once back to the office all day, I would text our nanny asking how much he was eating so I could, in turn, be paranoid and stressed the entire day that I was falling behind.
Enter kid number two. I was determined to get ahead of the breast-milk eight ball. I started pumping from the get-go – in between feedings and even letting my husband bottle feed earlier. That way, I could pump and stock-up extra. In order to achieve this new goal of mine, you guessed it, I began to pump everywhere.
While making dinner, watching TV, brushing my teeth, doing my makeup, you name a daily activity – I’m pumping. My personal favorite is in the car… think of all the time you spend running errands. Well, invest in a good pumping bra, strap in and away you go. It’s multi-tasking at its finest {Just try not to make eye contact at stop lights, ha}. I remember with child number one being so nervous, hunkering away in a room to pump by my lonesome. Or, I was too nervous to speak up in the middle of something, to say sorry and that I had to leave. I lived in fear of getting behind. Looking back, it was completely unhealthy and irrational.
I am not sure what changed, but it’s amazing how much more confident I feel knowing that 1. If I do run out of breast milk, formula is not the end-all. Fed is best! and 2. It’s something I want to accomplish as a mother, and nothing I should be ashamed about. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to whip it out in front of my dad or anything, but if I’m riding along in the car with my husband or someone I feel comfortable with – hey, it’s going to happen.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
Where have you pumped that you wouldn’t have guessed possible? I’d love to hear!
