There it goes. That's the entire back of a Subaru wagon filled with the milk stash. I'm delighted to say it has found a home. My excellent friend Sue arranged it for me, and I'm thrilled that the milk is going to be used, that it's going to help another baby girl grow and thrive. For a little while, anyway. That would have lasted Jane forever; I have no idea how long it'll take a four-month-old full-term baby to go through it.
Quite a sight, all of it piled up like that. Pretty cool that it's not going to waste.
Well, it was in a very real sense my last tangible link to Jane.
I tried to do a little advanced math here, and I think that pile represents something like 187 hours of pumping. Just take a moment to ponder that figure.
Speaking of my old friend the pump, I finally returned it to the medical supply people about two weeks ago. I still had a little manual dealie for emergencies (trust me, there ARE pumping emergencies), but I was trying to do as little as possible so I'd stop producing as quickly as possible. There was a day shortly afterward when my boobs were so sore I could hardly bear to carry towels against my chest. I had to wear TWO jog bras to minimize ouch-inducing movement. And people, I'm not exactly endowed here. In fact, on the two-bra days I looked a lot like I did in junior high, except with wrinkles and grey hair. But it worked. I've been free of the tyranny of the milk machine for most of a week now. Naturally, just this weekend I discovered some stuff from the LCs at Boston, including a cream that's supposed to help inhibit supply and ease discomfort. AHAHAHAHA. Awesome.
Gotta admit, I felt a twinge of guilt that there wasn't more milk for this other family. Silly, right? But it was so easy for me to do, and there easily could have been more in the freezer. Ah, mother guilt. The endlessly renewable resource.