Ode to a Breast Pump

Dear B.P.,

It’s been a fun 12 ½ months, but, this is where we say adieu. And let me tell you, I’m not sorry to see you go.

When we first began our relationship, I welcomed the 3-4 breaks I would take while at the office. It was a welcome respite from the daily grind. I’d take you into the empty office, close the door, and try to beat my high score on Candy Crush. We were close; bosom buddies, if you will.


But then, you quickly turned on me.


You became my enemy.


I grew tired of your constant whirring and groaning. I often forgot about you until my chest throbbed like my big toe after hitting it on the table leg. You began to chew at me, causing whelps and blisters. You made me crack and bleed and even caused me to spill the precious “Liquid Gold” because your cord was way too short as I tried to pick up a dropped toy (for the fifth time) for my crying child across the room.

Your mere presence was enough to make me sigh exasperatedly.

But then I remembered how you helped me nourish my child while I was on a much-needed break. I thought of how you gave me some freedom and my little girl the ability to visit both sets of her grandparents without a two-hour time limit.

Now that I am packing you away for storage, I’m a little wistful when I think on our time together. But, I know all too soon I will be coming for you when we decide to add another to our brood.

See you when I see you.




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