Moooving on...

Medela Pump In Style, I’m done with you.

After a full year of your wheezy contractions that sound uncannily like “wake-up, wake up”, after a full year of washing and reassembling your parts over and over again, after a full year of catching a few minutes to read or doze while you did your stuff, it is time for me to move on.

The cow, whose milk can be conveniently bought in gallon containers, poured into a sippy, and served in my 4.5 hour a day absence, has replaced you. My boys will continue to breast feed, but not with your mediation.

You did your job well, and I am grateful for the time we spent together. You helped me build up my milk supply when my boys were in the NICU on gavage tubes and too sleepy to nurse yet. I am grateful for the extra sleep you offered me at times, as well as the chance to continue giving only breast milk after I went back to work six months ago. All this from a five-pound contraption in a nifty nylon bag that looks like a large purse. I’m not leaving you because of your looks. Is just that you have more than served your purpose.

And if the tree-hugger in me allowed it, I’d douse you with gasoline, set you in the back yard, and blow you the hell up.

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P.S. For a witty historical perspective on breast pumps, check out this article from Slate.

Comments

[Heels]

After two years (two kids/one year each) with my Medela PIS, I joked that I was going to have it taken to a farm and shot. Instead, it pooped out when my son was 11 mos old and I walked it to the trash can outside and tossed it in with great happiness.

I rented a Lactina for two months and sent that sucker back happily, too.

I echo your joy at giving up the breast pump. What a wonderful, wonderful feeling.

Your sons are gorgeous!