Why I’ll Miss Being a Milk Machine
By: Matilda Swinney
Tags: Self, Motherhood, Family, Breastfeeding, Parenting

Why I’ll Miss Being a Milk Machine

Photo by Jason Murphy on Unsplash

I worked as a milk machine for 14 months. My boss was highly demanding and expected me to work 24/7.

I had no previous experience or training but my boss loved me immediately. She didn’t consider any other candidates.

During the first three months of my new job I was needed every ten minutes. My boss was rarely awake but always by my side. She used few if any words, but knew exactly how to get her point across.

As we got used to each other’s way of working, she started to branch out. She did some work on the floor and paid more attention to what was going on around her. She worked with others occasionally and enjoyed music and soft books.

As the work got easier, I enjoyed the peace we shared together. I spent time reflecting. I would sit silently watching her tiny face. She looked so blissfully happy during feeding.

As I gazed at her pink cheeks and downy head, I hoped she would store the memory of being cosied up on the softest part of my body, feeling warm and deliciously full, forever.

I hoped it would be a bank of love she could draw from, whenever she felt low in life. I knew she would never remember the work we had done together in these early weeks and months, but I wished for the unconscious memory to be somewhere in her heart.

However, although the daily workload had decreased, I still found I was getting up 5–6 times in the night. This meant I struggled to keep awake during the day and my previous duties and interests were forgotten. So, at 6 months it felt like a good idea to move on.

To my surprise, my contract was renewed. My boss was overjoyed with my work. She was becoming a better boss everyday, and I felt fiercely proud of the part I was playing in her progress. She didn’t want me to stop. So, I decided to listen to my intuition and carry on with my role as a milk machine.

We worked together for another 8 months. The work load steadily decreased and the night shifts gradually stopped. Occasionally there were unexpected peaks in my boss’s demand which lead to tears, sleepless nights and worry. On these occasions she would only work with me. I tried suggesting other main milk companies, but she refused.

She knew what she wanted.

After 12 months, I began to think about leaving. I was putting on weight, and not focusing on myself enough. I wanted to re-gain my identity and my body.

As I seriously contemplated ending my role, a deep sadness consumed me. I had expected to feel liberated. But, I had been doing the job for so long, I realised I wouldn’t know what to do when it ended.

Would I still have a purpose in her life? What would my new role be? I wouldn’t be her main food supply, soother or sleep aid anymore.

Plus, I couldn’t help but worry about her. Would she be OK without milk? She would be shocked I had stopped. I didn’t want her to fall ill, or be unsettled with the huge life change.

I had to remember I would never have this job opportunity again. It would be the first and last time we would work together in this capacity. Was I ready to give that up?

She was by far the most demanding boss I had ever worked for. But she was also the only person who I had ever seen being born (I had even done it). I had watched in anticipation as she took her first breath in this world. I had fed her instantly and loved her beyond anything I thought possible.

How could I put an end to everything we had known together? Was I ready to end the breastfeeding chapter for good?