It's hilarious how I'd even think of writing an entry just to address this. Breastfeeding is tough, much less glamorous than it is and taught me so much about myself than I ever imagined. Sounds like a self discovery journey already.

I was actually alot tougher than I thought I'd be

Until now I salute the moms who wake up to pump, after six months I considered my duty done and quit the midnight sessions. It was although very therapeutic and the outputs are actually higher but for my sanity and not to quicken ageing, I chose sleep.

What relationship if baby wasn't even latching?

A friend spoke of the intimate relationship she had with baby during their latching sessions and I could only imagine. C latched beautifully from day one and I thanked my lucky stars that he was sucha chomper which made those sessions so convenient but the day came when he despised them - preferring the faster flowing teats to what was potentially our bond.


No latching and I became an exclusively pumping moo.

I could have gotten obsessed with the idea of breast is best along the way, sitting up to an hour per session and tried all ways and means to get the supply  up and up and there's honestly a limit to one's output.

Drop pumps = Drop in volume

I couldn't accept that. From 6 pumps to 5 and 4, the output remained the same and I thought as long as I pumped long enough it would be status quo.

Apparently not when I dropped to 3.

It was horribly emotional and I let that eat me up.

I was less off just because I had to rely on my frozen stash.
I was less off just because I didn't meet the desired amount.
I was less off.
Full stop.

For moms who dropped pumps happily and even looked forward to the day they can hang up their flanges, I was just not one of them.

So why the breakup?

I was emotional about breastfeeding, introducing formula, keeping up with my ideal outputs, travelling and pumping, dropping pumps and finally this. In short, for as long as I have been pumping, I have been emotional.

I don't ever know if there can be a state of being overly emotional but it probably reached a point where I was planning my day around my schedules and it sounds almost ridiculous. So no appointments are made around the time I am scheduled to pump.

Honestly, on hindsight I cannot believe how many teary episodes I've had thinking of weaning even (not even putting those words into action) and there are moments I wish I wasn't so stubborn about this promise to myself even. Did it become a personal challenge and a measure of my worth even? 

So long, farewell slowly (pun intended)

Until the day I finally bid my trusted pump farewell, I am taking it slower. There have been memories that I will not forget this lifetime and I'm not sure when and if we will be acquainted again. If there's one lesson learnt, it's about "fed is best, not necessarily breast."

I don't think anyone can prepare yourself fully for the journey, I went for prenatal classes, stocked up the necessary vitamin (fenugreek) and medicine boosters (motilium for starters), suffered from constipation from too many pills I was popping, ate as much fish in a month as I did in a lifetime and ended up with engorgement, hated durians but ate them anyway because they are my booster, I had a case of bruised and clogged nipples, refused antibiotics just because it would affect my supply (I cried so many times when I had to because of some horrible virus attack). And then what's next?

It is a personal choice and a huge sacrifice, and to all mothers, we are already great on our own, breastfeeders or not.

14 months and counting, and someday when the body feels enough is enough, I will hang up my flanges.