Thursday, August 22, 2013
A Labor of Love
Last week, we used the last bottle of frozen breast milk out of 300+ bottles that I brought home after Lizzy's stay in the NICU.
As I fed it to her, I cried-- for so many reasons.
This bottle symbolizes all of the hours I spent behind a curtain in the pumping room and at Lizzy's bedside in the NICU, trying everything I could to produce enough milk for her. It symbolizes all of the tears I shed from sore nipples and the discomfort I felt from the lactation consultants showing me how to 'massage' my milk down with their own rough hands.
This bottle is filled with milk pumped in the middle of the night, when I would wake up to an alarm clock so that I could pump regularly every 3 hours, 24 hours around the clock, so that I could keep up my supply.
This bottle represents the dozens of charts I filled out neurotically for four months, so that I could track my progress and figure out why some days I was pumping more than others. At my most productive day, I reached 800 milliliters.
This bottle stores all of the prayers that I said, silently and out loud, for God to make my body do at least ONE THING RIGHT for my daughter & help me to produce more milk so that her little body could grow. After everything my body put her through, I had to give her this one thing.
This bottle holds so much love for my little Lizzy. No matter how sore, how tired & how degenerated I felt during this process, I did it for you, my sweet girl, and will continue to do so as long as I can.