Ok. I just lost my ever loving mind on my husband. Which I shouldn’t have done because that’s never the answer, but here is the deal.
Husbands, fathers, please hear this.
Having a baby is hard. Watching your body stretch to this thing that you don’t recognize and are entirely mortified by is even harder. Men, you know when you haven’t gone to the gym in a week and you look in the mirror and feel “fat” because the thin layer of skin movesover your eight pack a little more loosely than you would like it to? Yeah, that makes a pregnant person want to punch you in the face. You have no idea what it’s like to feel fat. In fact, you have no idea what it’s like to feel anything that we are feeling, and you never will.
Breast feeding is hard. And it’s not just bread feeding. It’s pumping. It’s seriously enough to make me never want to feed my children (or myself) milk because I sympathize with the cows. As if the inherent fact that my boobs will sag by the time this is all over wasn’t enough, I have become a food mill. My sole purpose in life after growing a human is to now feed that human, and as magical as it is, sometimes it just is not.
It is not my life’s goal to be at the beck and call of a baby’s feed schedule. I do it because I love our child, but it is not my job or duty. I am doing it because I choose to, and because I love our child. Do not take this for granted. The words “what’s the big deal, just pump” will surely set me into a tailspin. Remember those things called hormones that get released in hyper drive when we have babies? You will set them off. Ready for a mommy meltdown?!
Pumping is literally the bane of every new moms existence. It is being attached to a machine while it pulls the life out of you. We don’t like doing it so treat the liquid gold with some respect!! Do not spill it, or thaw it unnecessarily or *gasp* throw away the extra.
You have no idea how hard we have worked for it.
My poor husband made the error of thawing my stash to feed our precious baby because it was “his time” to watch her. Considerate. Or so he thought. Poor guy dove into it head first. Do not thaw the stash if I am right there!!! I don’t want to pump during “me time”. There’s nothing “me” about having a machine stretching my boobs while expelling milk.
And hence, I lost my ever loving mind. And I’m sorry. But next time. Don’t waste the stash. Seriously. I work hard for that stuff.