Today is the second day that I've hauled my breast pump downtown to work, only to pick it up and take it home unused. I should be thrilled. I've always said that "I hate pumping as much as I love breastfeeding." I hate that depressed feeling that immediately washes over me as the machine grabs my nipples and simultaneously yanks on them every half a second for 20 minutes. I hate having to interrupt my work day twice to go to my "pumping room" that someone else always seemed to be using to make a personal phone call. And I hate washing all those pump parts every day only to have to wash them again the following day. And the day after that.
I really hate pumping, but not as much as I hate the thought of not breastfeeding anymore. That's the thought I just can't quite get a handle on.
So far, all the milestones I've been through with Colin have been exciting. Everything I've witnessed has been a fun adventure, from watching him roll over for the first time to babbling more and more sounds to crawling and now walking. Every time I look at him now, I can't help but see a little boy, and not a baby.
I think I may be holding on to breastfeeding because it's the only thing that makes me feel like I still have a baby. Letting go of that means letting go of his infancy.
And that's not something I'm ready to do. I'm not ready to let go of my baby.
I know he's not going anywhere. He's just growing up. But I don't even have enough time to enjoy one phase before he's off on the next. I couldn't enjoy him falling asleep in my arms for long enough because he started becoming more interested in looking around rather than closing his eyes. I didn't have enough time to watch his butt wiggle from side to side as he crawled because he started to walk. And I don't feel like we've had enough time to bond before he falls asleep at night in the way that only I can bond with him. Just me. Just his mom.
Holding on to this baby stage is all the more important because he may be my only child, as Brent hasn't let go of his "one and done" mantra, no matter what I say or how important it is that I tell him that I want another one. It's something that's too important to me to let go, yet too emotional for me to have a rational conversation around, which frustrates Brent to the point where whenever the subject comes up, it goes nowhere.
So for now, I'm going to keep the morning breastfeeding before I go to work and the evening one before Colin goes to bed. I enjoy it, and I know Colin does too. Maybe it's my way of trying to slow down time. Since history has shown Colin isn't doing that, someone has to try.
