The Night Before
Tomorrow morning will start in the same way that every day has started for the last two and a half years. I’ll begrudgingly wake up, attach the bottles to the Medela Freestyle pump and sit listening to the buzzing machine while reading the latest headlines and checking Twitter. The only difference being that I’ll be pumping for the last time. The very last drops of breast milk will leave my body, and along with it will go years of a daily routine and the dream that I’ll ever breast feed.
I feel a pang of sadness about it. The same sort of feeling you get as the day of leaving school approaches. The relief of new found freedom mixed with heavy nostalgia. Letting go of what feels like all you’ve ever known, the start of a new adventure on your journey. A huge chunk of my life and identity will be gone, hopefully making way for new things. When one door opens, and all that.
I feel better about it than I thought I might. I’ve known this day was coming, a person can’t exclusively pump forever (although the thought has crossed my mind) and I’d assumed I’d be an emotional wreck. The calm is unnerving, I’m sure the grief will creep up on me unexpectedly. I’m prepared for feelings of deep regret and nights of inconsolable weeping. Brace yourselves for blog posts that will follow suit.
I’ll savour every moment of the pump in the morning. I’ll take a selfie to capture it. Those last precious sips of breast milk will be given to Moo before bed, she’ll be ignorant to the fact it’ll be the last she’ll ever drink.