"Mother and Child," by William Zorach

For me, breastfeeding ROCKED.

I absolutely reveled in the nine months I spent nursing each of my daughters. It brought sweetness, peace, health, relaxation, natural breast enhancement, rapid weight loss – what’s not to love?

I’ll tell ya: PUMPING.

Now, I haven’t tested the latest model portable breast pumps, but I’m pretty darn sure they’ve evolved greatly from the one I used 15 years ago. The contraption was unwieldy and uncomfortable. It took quite an effort to assemble and put to use. Worst of all, it was noisy.

No, make that NOISY.

I recall a particularly cringeworthy 20 minutes spent pumping in the ladies’ room of a client’s office during a meeting break. It’s quite possible passersby thought the restroom was being renovated — if not completely demolished and rebuilt from scratch — as the monstrous whirring of the milking machine echoed off the tile.

But of course it was worth the effort to be able to provide that free and natural wonder food for my babes while I was away from them. And I was recently reminded of my pumping days when a dear friend, the mom of 6-month-old twins, told me she’d tipped over a full bottle of breast milk and…had a bit of a freak out. All that time and effort down the drain — or the side of the kitchen counter, as it were.

She knew I’d empathize.

She knew I’d understand that she wasn’t overreacting.

She knew I’d write a poem about it.

So, here’s to you, dear friend, and every breastfeeding mom out there: May your pumps run smoothly, may your freezers stay full and may you never spill a single drop.

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Sob Story

After hours at a pump that’s been plying
Liquid gold from them, there’s no denying
Moms of lactating ilk
Know there’s one kind of milk
That – when spilt – fully justifies crying.

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©2012 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz