Saturday, November 5, 2011

don't cry over spilled milk?

It's November 6. A windy day. The sun is shining; I can hear the crisp leaves blowing down the street. I am inside my warm home, nursing my baby. He is composed, peaceful. He feels secure.

In the back of my mind I am reminded that things will be changing soon. I will be going back to work in December. I know that I need a job. I need to help support our family, but it doesn't feel right.
It isn't natural.

Yesterday it hit me. I walked in the kitchen and found the tiny 5 oz bottle of liquid gold sitting in the sink. I picked it up (manual pump still attached) to examine it. I noticed that 1 of the 2 ounces of milk that I worked so hard to pump, was missing.

I was upset.

I opened the refrigerator and saw it spilled all over the top shelf. My precious milk was laying there, wasted, between a jar of red pasta sauce and a leftover container of plain angel hair pasta. I felt devastated. I had left it in there until it was time to pump again. It takes my body quite sometime to get 5 oz of milk while still feeding Silas.


Going back to work worries me.

I hate the thought of my son getting his nourishment through a man-made piece of plastic rather than his mama's warm, familiar body. Nursing not only provides nourishment, but it provides the feeling of love, safety, comfort, and ease. I will be denying my sweet baby boy of those so very important feelings. How can I get over that?

What if I can not provide enough milk?

Scratch that.

I will provide enough milk. I will do every thing in my power to make sure that happens.

It is funny how once you cross over to the "mama side" your priorities change dramatically. You aren't just in it for you anymore. A whole new dependent, valuable life has been added to the mix. You see the world differently. New challenges are added.

I will jump one hurdle at a time.

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