When my son was 5 months old, I left him. I packed my bags and ran away to Nepal.
Ok, it wasn’t THAT dramatic, but in the car on the way to the airport, for my first post-baby business trip, it felt pretty damned dramatic. Like, soul-being-ripped-from-body dramatic. I spent the ride begging my best friend, who was driving me, to turn around and take me back to my boy. (Being the good kind of best friend, she did not comply.)
Making matters worse? Breastfeeding, of course. 5 months in, my son was taking an enormous (way above average) amount of milk every day across six feedings. So I had a two-part problem if I wanted to continue exclusively breastfeeding him:
1. Build up a freezer stash of 300 ounces of milk before I left. (7 days x 40+ ounces)
2. Keep up my supply for the duration of my trip.
I accomplished #1 by pumping every morning immediately after I fed my son, starting at about 4 weeks after he was born. I was obsessive about this milk. I’d wake up at night and creep to the kitchen to stand in the cold light of the freezer and count my milk. I was nuts. (In hindsight: the boy could’ve had a wee bit of formula.)