Disclaimer: This story is very personal and subjective – it might be varies for every working mom.
Eight months and 20 days. That’s the age of my baby boy by today. He is still on breastfeeding and – thanks God – so addictive to it. Sometimes I feel sad and guilty, because when I leave him at home for business trips, he would be cranky and looking for his mama’s milk. My husband told me that we better train him on bottle only, but I refused. The bonding moment when I breastfeed him is something that I would not want to give up for anything else. The way he looks at me, stroking my cheeks (scratch them mostly) and smiling at me – is nothing but heaven!
While I travel, I carry my cooler bag and blue ice gel with me. After expressing, I would store the bags in the hotel where I stay. At first, it was all good. Hotels nowadays are very supportive toward working mom who needs to freeze their expressed breast milk. But then, long travel slips in.
Last week I had to travel 6.5 hours by train. I could not stop praying that my frozen gems would stay frozen – or at least not melted altogether. After I arrived home at 4am, hurriedly I open the cooler bag and found that most of them had been melted. Broken hearted, I put them all back into the freezer at home. I knew I shouldn’t do that – but having to toss 15 bags of expressed breast milk was not an option for me. But I told my mother – who help me when I am away – to check the milk. If my baby refuses it, then toss them away. Thank God there was only one thawed milk that he refused and he had no sign of having any sickness from my breast milk.
Few days ago, I also experiencing another long hours of traveling. My plane was delayed for more than 2 hours due to thunderstorm. I was praying hard that I would not need to experience that ‘train incident’ again. Then I saw a small Starbuck stall at the airport. I asked one of their 3 staff if I could keep my breast milk in their freezer or cooler. They said yes! All good …
After all these months, I realized why people called us ‘Breast Milk Fighter’ – for all the fights of providing breast milk. I am not a supermom, nor trying to be one. I always tell myself: Just be his mama. And I am doing all of these, because I am his mama.
Never give up, Moms!