Well I’m finally doing it.
I began my pumping journey in the hospital with a major oversupply and a baby who wouldn’t latch. Four days after coming home, I was readmitted for mastitis. For five months, I pumped 80–90+ ounces a day, lived around the clock attached to a machine, rarely left the house, and was physically and emotionally depleted. It was isolating, exhausting, and at times overwhelming.
Eventually, I fought hard to regulate my supply, and since then have maintained around 40 ounces a day.
Now, with her first birthday on the 23rd, we’ve started mixing breastmilk with whole milk as we prepare for this next transition. Closing this chapter feels heavier than I expected. Pumping demanded so much from me, and letting it go feels like more than ending a routine—it feels like saying goodbye to a version of motherhood that consumed me. I’m mourning the end of my baby’s first year while trying to make peace with the fact that she’s becoming a toddler.