Dear Momcozy V1 Pro,
I hate you.
I fantasize about backing you over with my car on my twin’s first birthday, or whenever I finally work up the courage to dump you, but when I remember how much money you cost, I almost reconsider. Almost.
Our relationship started as a blind date. I had never seen you before, you had never seen me, and after our first meeting, I hoped to never see you again.
But my younger twin had other plans. Maybe you and her had cut a deal somehow.
No matter how hard I tried, she refused to latch. My stubborn attempts at breastfeeding kept us in the hospital for nearly five days. The twins kept losing weight, losing weight, losing weight, and I kept adamantly refusing formula. I did this under the guise of wanting to provide my babies with the best milk possible! when in reality, there was just no way in hell I would be able to afford formula for two.
The older twin eventually figured out how to latch, but it was apparently so comforting for her, that she dozed off every time. The younger one continued to scream at my nipple every time I tried to feed her, and would smack my chest with her angry little fists. They both lost even more weight. At birth, they weighed 6 pounds 1.4 ounces and 5 pounds 3.6 ounces, but by day four, the younger one weighed barely more than 4 pounds.
I caved, and gave up trying to feed the twins straight from the tap.
The NICU sent 100mL of donor milk, which seemed like so much at the time, and the lactation team came in every three hours to help me pump. I was so sleep deprived and delirious at that point, that I don’t even think I was much of a participant in my own pumping sessions.
They would whisk into the room in their blush pink scrubs, and a flurry of hands helped me undress, put on my makeshift pumping bra they had fashioned out of a belly band, and assemble and start the pump for me.
They always made sure to remind me how great I was doing, holding up the bottles full of milk I had made like it was a freshly caught fish, but I was so numb, I just half-smiled through my tears in response. This is not the breastfeeding journey I had in mind.
Once my milk came in, and I felt confident that I could pump on my own, I was ready to go home immediately. The hospital wanted to keep me one more day, but I refused, so they had me sign some paperwork that I was leaving against doctors’ recommendations and we were on our way.
And then I was reunited with you.
I dug you out from the back of the nursery closet (because I was so sure we’d never meet again that I had stuffed you back there when I was only twenty weeks pregnant) and we haven’t spent a moment apart since. Every second of the day, I am either in the act of pumping, preparing to pump, or thinking about pumping. I know where you are at all times, and you’ve tagged along to doctor’s appointments, law school, the courthouse, afternoons at the pool, the zoo, festivals, church, and everywhere else. Where I go, there you go, too.
Things are better now, but we didn’t get along at first. There was, literally, lots of blood, sweat, and tears involved. I didn’t feel like my body was my own; instead, it felt like it was yours. I invested in a wide array of products to try and make our time together more enjoyable — creams and butters and ice packs and heating pads and cooling masks — but nothing quite did the trick. Nothing but time.
Then there was the embarrassment. Having to bring you everywhere embarrassed me, and I didn’t want to be seen with you in public anymore than a thirteen-year-old boy wants his mom to roll down her window and yell, “Have a great day, sweetie, Mommy loves you!” at school drop off. But I had no choice. My options were either feel embarrassed or starve my babies, and I love my babies infinitely more than I hate you.
Slowly, I began to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Pumping began to feel like second nature. I learned how to get out of my house, still enjoy life, and keep making milk. And eventually, I realized how grateful I am for you. I wouldn’t be able to feed my little girls without you. My freezer stash wouldn’t exist without you. I wouldn’t be able to hand off feedings to someone else without you. I wouldn’t be able to return to school or work without you.
Learning to appreciate you has also led to me learning how to appreciate my body. Every month I survive of exclusively pumping is another milestone to celebrate, with cake, candles, and all.
This is satire and although I hate the act of pumping, I really love my Momcozy V1 Pro! It has been my primary pump since the beginning and I can’t recommend it enough.
I also drafted this article before I made the tough decision to end my exclusively pumping journey earlier than originally planned. Read more about that here:
Read more about how I’m trying to thrive this summer, despite being freshly postpartum, here:
Read the most recent update on the twins here:
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Step by Step Parenting 