The End of an Era

As a first time mom I was nervous about breastfeeding.  My job as a neonatal nurse practitioner added a little bit more stress because I knew how important it was especially since Jack would be going to daycare.
Then Jack wouldn't nurse.
He had been born a little early at 35 weeks, so I was super paranoid about making sure he ate enough so I started to pump and give a bottle.  I still tried to nurse but it got harder and harder and then there was reflux.  Now as a neonatal nurse I have been puked on a fair number of times and I thought there was no way I could be surprised.  Note to self - NEVER EVER EVER say you can't be surprised. 
Jack would have such bad reflux that I could feel it come up and he literally would have projectile vomit that cleared a good 3 feet. 
I was shocked.  His vomiting was so impressives that my stepson said we should sell tickets to see Jack.  I was like what?  He went on to explain that we could feed Jack turn him towards the crowd and say wait for it, wait for it,  and then let Jack spray the crowd.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry because my step son was right.
It wasn't the laundry I minded it was the screaming and the clear pain that he was in.  Then I would try to breastfeed him and you would think I was poking him with a hot poker.  With the reflux, we found that in addition to the medicine if we thickened with rice cereal he no longer resembled a human puke canyon.
So I pumped,  and I pumped, and I pumped.  While I stayedd home I pumped every 3 hours.  I had a decent amount of milk in the fridge.  Then I went to work.  In a job where lunch and bathroom breaks was not always guaranteed, I was determined to continue to pump.  So I became a multitasker.  I could pump, type my notes, and eat lunch.  Then the dreaded happen - I started getting less.  Jack was 4 months old and I wasn't ready to quit.  So I took the herbs, the teas, woke up to pump in the middle of the night.  My milk came back and I was ecstatic.
Then came Labor Day.  We were in Colorado visiting my brother.  I was pumping and not getting much and then my stepson accidentally knocked over the bottle spilling what little I had.  I was so upset I thought I was gonna have a breakdown. I remember looking at my husband and thinking I can't do this anymore.
I was devastated.  I felt like a failure.  Not inly had I not been able to nurse my child but I didn't make it to my goal of 6 months.  But you know what, after I accepted that I was not gonna be able to keep doing it I felt relieved.  Finally, I could relax and enjoy feeding the baby, playing with him and not obsessing about my milk.
My husband told me something that really made it better - he said you have worked so hard and you have done the best you can.  I am proud of you.  It seemed like I was off the hook.  Who knows, maybe next time it will be different - either better or worse.  But I am convinced that I gave it my all.
Bye Bye Pump.