[pump]

Pump here it is...without thinking just writing, after carrying the pump bag with me to work 6 blocks man that thing is heavy. Is the equipment all there if not then I will be stranded without it at work and I’ll have to run to Special Edition and buy what I need. I mind as well bring the pump bag with me and just pump there because by the time I realize that I am lacking something and in need of something it will be too late and I will be in so much pain and I will just need to pump. The first time was so weird I felt sick and small and embarrassed in front of a million people at the hospital with my breasts just there for everyone to see. How long will you continue to pump? Too much milk. Too little milk. Hands cracked and blistered from washing all the plastic paraphernalia. Thrush! Keep pumping. Sick! Keep pumping. Engorged! Keep pumping. Tired! Keep pumping. I have to get up at 5 I have to pump! Wet T-shirt! pain! pump! What a gift! What a miracle what a thing! Pump (rebecca)


Pump it up, until you can't feel it. Pump. Power to the people. The mama people. The fist in the air, the cheerleader, the thrill inside. The exploding breasts. Milk, so sweet. Milk, so sour. There is nothing worth crying for unless you need. Pay at the pump. Liquid gold. Every drop of mother's milk so precious, so priceless, so valued and yet...not. Make it political, Liz. The greed run rampant, the stranding of mothers in our country, the formula. The sterilization of unwilling women, the sterilization of the bloody process of birth. The mess and the chaos of pumping. Lamb's oil on my nipples, plastic cones and tubes. A milk machine. A finely timed perfectly balanced food producer. My breasts, heavy with milk and motherhood, knowing me better than I know myself, knowing my baby better than I do. A miracle in this milk, this complete cycle. A pump is a friend. A handshake. A milkshake, a smooth fruit. Mama's mangoes. And I tango toward the camera with a baby in my arms. My pump hidden behind some diapers, gathering dust, a thing of my recent past. Soon he will be drinking sacred cow's milk and eating the fruits of the earth exclusively, instead. And I will long for those long days of pumping, listening to the machine whisper "Nipple! Nipple!" as the milk collects in the cups.