Milk always came very easily from my breasts when the time came for my baby to latch on. There was more than one instance where the milk flowed out like a mini faucet and my husband stared transfixed while I giggled at the amazing things my body could do. On the other hand, my milk production seemed to come to a screeching halt once I brought out a pump.

I was lucky to be able to stay home with both of my babies so technically I didn’t need to pump. It would have been nice, though, to be able to leave for more than an hour at a time when the babies were young without my husband calling me on my cell phone and frantically telling me to come home because the baby was trying to nurse on anything she could get her mouth on.

I tried to pump. When my breasts were engorged the pumping came pretty naturally and helped me to feel a little less like my breasts were going to explode. Once that was over I still tried to pump once a night just to build up a little stockpile in the freezer just in case we ever needed some extra or if my baby ever took to a bottle.

Then my husband got orders to Iraq. I was home with a five month old all by myself and was scared out of my mind. Every time I tried to pump there was barely a trickle, and never enough to put into the freezer. I know that nursing moms are supposed to relax and think about their babies when trying to pump breastmilk, but I guess I was having relaxation issues.

I gave up on pumping. I never liked it anyhow, and I guess I was just one of those moms who never got the hang of it. If I could have pumped like a champ then I’m sure I would have had more time to myself because the babies could have enjoyed some feedings from other people via bottle, but it just never happened for me.