"White power, white power, white power" I wonder what made my breast pump racist? It used to ask "Where's Paul? Where's Paul? Where's Paul?" Perhaps it's all the late night television it's been watching? I guess what I really should be wondering is if anyone else's breast pump talks to them.
Here I am again huddled into the corner of my couch at 2am hoping that I can do what women having been doing since the dawn of time... produce enough milk so that my baby doesn't starve to death, hello melodrama my close cohort. My boobs are defunct, they don't make enough milk, so I attach to this machine to try and capture every drop “every drop, every drop, EVERY DROP” There is nothing express about expressing milk. They should call it frustratingly slow, humiliating and ineffective.
Yes I know it’s my own fault, not like I was born with the size DD bags that take up the prime milk making real-estate. That's something my surgeon didn't tell me when I opted for bigger boobs “Your ability to be a mother will diminish”. He couldn’t actually speak English so I guess if he had told me that I would have fallen off the table.
Anyway at that stage in my life I was more interested in my ability to capture a mate than my ability to feed the progeny of any successful copulation so I wouldn’t have cared.
Yes I can afford baby formula but the guilt of putting my girl on 100% formula has led me to being here, trying to cover my gut from the judgemental dog as I watch my nipples contorting to the unnatural shape of the breast pump. Poor things they look like stretched balls of Play Doh right at the point before one ball becomes two.
Why 2am? Time has no meaning with a newborn. I could be and often am in the same spot at 5pm, the only difference being that I am currently spared the shame and embarrassment of my husband walking around pretending that I am participating in a perfectly normal activity or watching the monkey see monkey do antics of my son when he presses the cups against his tiny chest with an expectant stare. Stupid thing is that I knew it was going to be this hard, my husband and I have already self-flagellated with spawn over 2 years ago but here we go again.
'We're full, we're full, we're full' Oh no, now my breast pump is a liar!