I'm Bringing My Breast Pump to India
I’m bringing my breast pump to India. There. I said it. I’m doing it, despite what everyone and their mother tells me I should do. Yes, I know I probably won’t be able to keep my supply up being gone for nearly a month. And yes, I know it will be a pain in the ass trying to deal with pumping on international flights and on moving Indian trains in a place where toilet paper is considered a luxury. Believe me, I’ve thought about all of it.
Alas, I am going to do it anyway. Call it attachment, call it lunacy, call it what you will. But I suppose this is my process. I need emotional weaning as much as my daughter needs it literally. The truth is, I secretly hope to keep some kind of supply so that when I get back, I can still breastfeed. Even just a tad.
Plus, the way I see it, there may be many hidden
benefits to me bringing my pump along to Asia…
Example one: The “Take You for a Ride” Mr. Cabbie. Last time my husband and I arrived in Delhi, it was three in the morning and we had no clue what we were doing. Our driver, a four-foot-two, pistol of a guy drove us all around the streets of Delhi telling us he couldn’t take us to our hotel. He kept saying we had to go to “his friend’s guest house.” Now, if I had my pump with me, in any like situation, I could take it out and start pumping right then and there. He’d surely want to get rid of me. I mean, what man is comfortable watching boobs be used for pumping? Honestly.
Example two: My Pseudo Travelocity Gnome. When I visit The Taj Mahal, The Golden Temple or even the Ganges River, I can take pictures of myself holding up my pump. I could call up Medela and ask them if they need a new spokesperson. Picture it. I’d make millions. All because I brought my pump to India. Upon returning home, I could even start a blog from my pump’s perspective. Brilliant.
Example three: I will forever have a “See? Look how much I love you” story. When my daughter hits 11 and I do everything wrong and “never loved her in the first place,” I can hearken back to the days of traveling through India with my breast pump in a display of my undying commitment to her health and wellness as a wee lad. She can throw fits and tell me that she knows I don’t care about her, ‘cause if I did I would let her do X. And I will kindly remind her..well, you know what I’ll remind her.
So, all ye nay sayers, there are clearly numerous reasons why bringing my pump along is a more than fabulous idea. Mama’s milk, or no Mama’s milk, I know my daughter will be just fine when I return. And hopefully, either way, I will be emotionally weaned and have at least a few stories to tell from it all.
This is an original post to Rocky Mountain Moms Blog. When Brie is not milking herself at the Taj Mahal, she can be found making light of life on her blog: Brie’s Blunderings.