Goodbye, Medela, Night

Dear Medela Symphony,

As our journey of 17 months comes to an end, I thought I'd reminisce on all the times we've shared.

The times I sat in the nursery, while my newborn slept soundly, soothed by the rhythmic sounds of the mere ounces of milk being pulled out of me. 30 minutes of pumping for only 2.5 ounces of milk. How would I ever feed my boy?

In those days, when my supply was low and I cried, worried I would never be able to make enough milk to go to exclusively breastfeeding. You were there, hour after hour, power pumping session after power pumping session.

Before I knew that I should just embrace my inner crispiness and bed share so that Baby Buckshot could nurse through the night and build my supply naturally, the middle of the night pumping sessions while my husband bottle fed BB seemed logical at the time. It must have been the sleep deprivation.

The terrors of mastitis (count: 5 times), bleeding nipples and various coconut oil and lanolin concoctions, were my battle scars from the challenges of a first time mom. Evidence of the hours upon hours I spent hooked up to you, resembling an industrial dairy cow.

My early memories of motherhood are mixed of images of my newborn babe and a pale yellow pump.

You were my reprieve during family holidays gone to long. "I have to pump for a while," I'd claim; everyone would leave me alone.

And all that time together went away as I finally achieved exclusive breastfeeding status. We had made the jump.

When I went back to work we met again, fitting in pumping sessions between meetings and projects made me feel like superwoman. Making milk and making money? That's me, having it all while I muted myself on conference calls.

But as BB started to eat more food and drink less milk, I used you less and less. What was multiple sessions a day became once a day, then once every other day and slowly, I realized it had been weeks since I had seen you.

17 months ago, I wouldn't have believed that I would be sad to see you go, off to another family with a new mom starting her breastfeeding journey with a new squish.

But I am because it means that my breastfeeding days with BB are numbered. As I say goodbye to you, I see the end of this phase of babyhood for BB in sight.

Goodbye, Medela, Goodnight.

No one ever told me how sad I would be about ending this phase with you; this passage's rite.

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