“Wush, Wush, Wush” the little blue box goes. Nathan loves the sway of the pressure piece, as it moves back and forth, all while filling the bottles with silky milk. He now thinks that everyone with breasts can squirt out milk for a baby. 

Nathan’s favorite toy is leaving today and I can’t help but feel so sad. I don’t think it’s the actual pump I feel bad about, I’m simply replacing it with another. But I had this blue one with Emme. Suddenly all this fear and sadness rushes over me, not wanting to part with yet another thing. 

I pumped as soon as I was able to after delivery, not wanting Emme to starve if she was hungry. I was able to retrieve all the colostrum my breasts had, and pumped every two hours desperately wanting my milk to come in so Emme could have it. A day in a half after birth, I was engorged and nothing could have made me happier. 

Eric and I went to the NICU at all hours of the day and night, running over milk for our little warrior. The nurses kept telling us to page them so they could walk over the milk. They wanted me and Eric to get some rest. But we couldn’t sleep. We couldn’t eat. We couldn’t do anything other than express and package milk, cry and spend time with Emme. 

Every time I would nod off I would wake up looking for Emme in our room, believing with all my heart this was just all a bad nightmare. I’d panic and then realize, Emme wasn’t there. This was real. And the stream would start down my cheeks again. 

I wanted to have control. And the only thing I had control over was my milk supply. So I pumped all day and night. Pumping without Emme now still makes me feel in control. I think of all the babies my milk will help, and I thank Emme for making it possible. 

it’s not the blue Madela pump I cry for, it’s for all the loss. But in the midst of all the sadness and loss, I smother myself in all the happiness we experienced in those bitter sweet eight days. 

I miss you my Chiquita Banana.