I met a young, new mother a few weeks ago at Methodist Hospital in Katy. She was having trouble healing from her birth. I didn’t want to be intrusive, but she was in tears, and I felt such a need to comfort her. 

When Maggie was nearly 3, I got my foot in the door of Katy ISD by becoming a home bound teacher for young mothers who were still in school. It was rewarding, yet heartbreaking a lot of the time. Some of these sweet girls lived in near squalor, and their lives were very difficult. Add a baby to their already burdened situations, and I could not imagine being in their shoes.  Maybe being a mother myself, or maybe remembering what those young women went through, or maybe even both, pulled at my heart strings. 

I decided to take a seat beside her and her husband. I put my arm around her, and she just leaned into me with a kind of sadness that is hard to describe. We began to talk, and I learned that she is just 19 years old, newly married, and she was hell-bent on nursing her baby. I admired her determination. She had this sheer, undeterred strength about her that I am certain I had no concept of as a teenager. 

We talked about nursing, and she was worried about her baby boy having enough milk. I talked to her about supply and demand and pumping. She said that she couldn’t afford a pump but that she wished she had one for times when she would have to be away from baby. 

We exchanged numbers, and I decided to give her my pump. My mother purchased it for me, as it was a large expense for a us at the time. 

So, today, I took my Medela out of its box, cleaned it, and made sure all of the parts and adapters were there, along with the owner’s manual. I washed and sterilized the flanges, ordered her some new tubing, and packed it all together. 

I have nursed and pumped for 2 babies, always wishing that I would have more. But, my pregnancies were nothing close to easy.  My tubes have been lasered, and my age is increasing. I never expected to have such a hard time saying goodbye to this “friend,” that I had such a tumultuous relationship with. On one hand, I absolutely despised the every 3 hours, 8 times a day pumping regime I took on, but on the other hand, had it not been for this amazing device, Samuel would have never been able to benefit from his mother’s milk, as he had so many problems eating and nursing. 

It was the final farewell to my days as a mother of an infant; tis that will never be again. I will never again buy tiny onesies, wee washcloths, or newborn diapers.  I will never hold another baby to my breast and nourish them, knowing I have everything they need for now. I am sad, but I am so very grateful for the history of midnight feedings, morning snuggles, and the bond that I helped to create between my children and me. I am glad that this precious mother will be able to do what her heart desires, even when her bank account says no.