Goodbye Pump, GOODBYEEEE PUMPPPP

For any of you out there that have seen or heard Rent, (and seriously, if you haven’t, what is WRONG with you?) please sing the title of this song to the lovely song, Goodbye Love by Miss Mimi Marquez (clad only in bubble wrap…).  Goodbye PUMP, GOODBYEEEE PUMPPPPP. GOODBYE PUMP, GOODBYEEEEEEE.

I have not pumped at work in over a week.  It is, without a doubt, one of the most liberating things I’ve experienced to date.  After Charlotte turned one, I scaled back from pumping 3 times a day to 2 times a day.  Then after a little while of that, I only pumped once a day.  If you’ve never breastfed before and never had to pump, you won’t really understand how absolutely, positively, HORRENDOUS it is.  I spent 8 months of my working life going down to the jury room of our courtroom at 9 AM, 12 PM and 3 PM to strap myself to a machine that, quite literally, sucked the life out of me.  I refused to only wear nursing friendly clothes to work, because they are ugly as fuck, and sometimes because of this I would have to take all of my clothes off to do this.  I was walked in on numerous times by various individuals, one of whom was deaf, so he was unable to hear me screaming to get out and got quite the show.  I would have to clean these pump parts every single day and then remember to bring them back to work with me.  I did not always remember this, and many times I would have to pump into plastic Ziploc bags, which meant my hands were not free for over 20 minutes and therefore I could do nothing except hold the suction cups of death to my bosom.  One time, I forgot the pump parts entirely, and had to run around NYC searching for a manual hand pump.  It was the bane of my existence.  For almost a year, my entire schedule had to revolve around pumping and the state of my boobs.

BUT NOT ANYMOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.  I tested out not pumping at all starting last week because Charlotte is able to have straight up whole milk now, and she doesn’t nurse as often during the day when I’m with her on the weekends.  I was uncomfortable for a day or two, but then it was fine, so I’m not looking back.  The pump is still sitting in the jury room because I’m not 100% ready to pack it up yet.  I know I’ll have to pump again on a night I have an after work event, because I’m not ready to go 24 hours without relieving my boobs, but for my daily day-to-day work life, I. AM. DONE.  I AM FREE. AND FREEDOM TASTES SO SWEET.

It’s crazy to think that my body has not been my own since June of 2014.  That’s when I get pregnant and Charlotte staked her claim on my body.  After I had her my body was even more hers, because she was constantly clamped onto it to eat and I had to drastically change my diet to continue breastfeeding her.  I had more dietary restrictions after pregnancy than I did during!  I still can’t take countless types of medicines and I still can’t get rip roaring drunk and feed her in good faith (although I have had a few drinks and a shot of whiskey and she seemed fine…).  And even being away from her at work I still was a slave to the pump, and to not have that burden on me any longer is FANTASTIC.  I don’t know how much longer she’ll be nursing, since I plan to ask her doctor at her 15 month checkup in a few weeks how we can go about getting her to stop without traumatizing the both of us, but just losing the pumping aspect of nursing has changed my life.

God, you people really know a lot about my boobs.  Sorry about that.

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