Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble

Miss Baby is now three and a half months old. I'm going back to work before Christmas, and The Dada is starting his parental leave. As we are exclusively breastfeeding until six months, and plan to continue b-f until one year, my absence from the familial home for gainful employment will necessitate some technological intervention.

I'm gonna hafta pump.

I splurged on the 'daily use' Medela backpack dual-pump with multi-phase pumping action. Um, 'woohoo'? It's all so clinical.

Here's me boiling all the components, a witch's brew of plastic mommy-replacement devices. It's easy enough to pump (mooooooo!), but the whole idea is just so undignified. Now, I'm really excited to go back to work (I miss grownup company, and I miss my job, actually), and, in a way, I'm really really excited that someone besides me will be able to feed Miss Baby. This will lengthen my leash considerably.

On the other hand, I was kind of pleased when Miss Baby utterly and with great hurling cries refused to take the bottle. I sort of, deep down, don't want to be rendered obsolete or expendable just yet. Yes, it's grueling to be the only food source, and the comfort of first, second, and last resort; it is sometimes less than cheering to discover that Miss Baby will holler inconsolably from her crib, only to fall fast asleep after a token three little sucks at the magic boobie. But, it's also kind of empowering: I'm The Mama, and she needs me, me, and only me.

However, I know that with December really coming up fast, the right thing to do is to introduce the occasional bottle now, just so that she gets used to it and won't freak out when The Boobies aren't around all the time. But you know, as much as I want her to take it, deep down I want her to reject it, too. Because otherwise, even though it's silly, I'll feel a little bit like she's rejecting me.