39 Days

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. Puff, puff, chug, chug!

In 39 days, L. turns 1 year old, and I plan to put away my breastpump forever. I will probably continue to nurse her mornings, evenings and weekends for a bit longer, and I am sad about the day she will wean. However, I am deliriously happy about the prospect of no longer pumping, counting ounces, worrying about whether the fridge temperature is cool enough, worrying about whether the ice packs will hold out long enough and wondering if milk that is 7 months old but been kept at 0 degrees is still good.

I do not regret the rigors of pumping even one little bit. It helped soothe my working mom guilt by providing breastmilk for my child. Pumping ensured that I continued to lactate for as long as L. wanted to nurse. There is something very fulfilling in packing up L.'s bottles each day knowing that I and only I could provide that nutrition for her. Yes, I am proud of my accomplishment, and I am very, very aware that many other women have tried the same and failed to meet their goals. The knowledge of the grief many of those women feel helps me cherish that this has worked out so well for L. and me.

However, the freedom to go walking during breaks and to enjoy my lunch hour away from my desk beckons as a glimmering shining beacon. A just reward for the sacrifices of the past year. Now, if I can just keep my motivation up. Yesterday I realized I only had 40 days left and now the countdown is firmly planted in my brain.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. Puff, puff, chug, chug.

M.W.