I’m in an Exclusive Relationship With My Pump

I guess you could say it’s getting pretty serious…

We hang out all the time, and when we’re not together, I’m plotting out the next time we’ll see each other.  

I definitely know how to push its buttons.

AND we’re exclusive.

I’m talking about my relationship with my breast pump.

For the past five-ish months, I have been exclusively pumping (EPing is apparently the lingo) to feed my baby. This means I use a breast pump (shout out Spectra, you my boy blue!) to get milk for my baby and feed it to him via bottle (as apposed to him getting it right from my breast). Why don’t you just breastfeed him you may ask? Oh how I wish it was that easy…

So obviously I had a very difficult pregnancy, which culminated with Liam arriving four weeks early via emergency C-section. He was whisked away to the NICU, where he started receiving formula since my milk had not come in. I was a mess. My miracle baby was here and I couldn’t even feed him. I couldn’t even have him in the room with me to look at and to hold. It was all so vastly different from my experience with my firstborn. Luke was born five days before his due date, I delivered him vaginally, he slept in our room, and I was able to breastfeed right away. But I had to realize that this was not the same pregnancy, and I had to accept that I could not control this (something I am not good at… ‘laid back’ is not on my resume).

Eventually I was able to try and breastfeed Liam in the hospital. He was so small, and it was never enough, so he usually had to take a bottle of my pumped milk after I spent time with him on my breasts. Each time we ventured to the NICU, I’d hold my breath, the anxiety would build – will he latch well this time? To calm my nerves, I told myself that once he put on weight and was more equipped developmentally to breastfeed that everything would fall into place. That the picture perfect moment I played in my head of me and my miracle baby, sitting in his nursery, breastfeeding and creating an unbreakable bond – would become a reality.

That’s not exactly how things went. Once we were home, I would try to breastfeed him whenever he was hungry. Sometimes he seemed like he was getting the hang of it but most of the time it was a stressful battle that ended with my husband heating up a bottle. This led to a never ending nursing cycle of breastfeeding, giving him a bottle, then pumping. – I was a triple threat! I knew there was no way I could keep that up and that I had to make a decision. In a last ditch effort to get this kid to like the boob, I went to a lactation consultant. It’s funny cause at the appointment he did a pretty good job latching (touché Liam, touché), but it wasn’t a full feeding. She suggested nipple shields but I found them to be annoying for both Liam and I and they didn’t really improve the situation. I held onto one nighttime feeding where I breastfed (and he’d need a bottle after) as this weird badge of honor, like “Look everyone! I’m breastfeeding! I’m not a total failure!” (Spoiler Alert: The only person who thought I was a failure was myself. Also, while it’s on my mind, fed is best, and how or what you feed your baby has nothing to do with how good of a mom you are).

Eventually I decided I would exclusively pump. I don’t remember the exact date I made that decision, it was probably around when he was two months old. It just sort of happened. I was sad at first and sometimes I feel like I’m in this club of my own because no one really talks about exclusive pumping. There’s either breastfeeding or formula feeding and I’m over here planning my day around this machine that I’m constantly attached to like a cow (while scrolling Amazon and draining my bank account). It’s worth it though, and I am damn proud that I’ve made it this far. How much longer will I do it? I’m not sure. Every time I think about cutting back on pumping or setting an ‘end date’ I am consumed with guilt (does mom guilt ever end?!). Also, like I said, I am proud that I am able to do this, and I’m very lucky that I have such a strong supply. Yes, it’s extremely exhausting, and there are times of complete chaos where I’m pumping at the dinner table, Liam is in my lap, and I’m feeding Luke all at once, but, I’m sure I’ll look back and miss it one day.

Ok now to the whole point of me sharing my exclusive pumping journey, which is to highlight the fact that we all put way too much pressure on ourselves. Society has created these unrealistic expectations around motherhood, career, marriage, education, bodies – everything! Our vision is so clouded by these expectations that we fail to see what is best for us.

Mothers feel guilty for formula feeding or going back to work or taking five minutes to shower. Why? Because they have to ‘do it all’?  

A 30-something year old is embarrassed because he or she hasn’t met ‘the one’ and bought a house with a white picket fence. Why? Because the second you hit a certain age you’re supposed to have everything figured out?

A teenage girl doesn’t have any confidence because she’s not a size zero. Why? Because all the girls with tons of followers on social media are thin?

Screw these expectations. What works for you might not work for someone else and that’s OK.

I came across this quote last year and have it saved in my phone. I read it from time to time:

                        You are doing well.

                        And if you aren’t doing well, you are doing your best.

                        And if you aren’t doing your best, you are doing.

                        And if you aren’t doing, you are being.

                        And in being, you are bold.

Let’s all try to loosen the pressure in 2021, take a deep breath, and just be.