…like it did for my daughter.  At the hospital, I wasn’t given any options other than what to do to try to stop the milk production, including taking some Benadryl and cold compresses.

  It was only after I got home that I thought maybe I should try to donate my milk to a milk bank.  I talked to my husband about what he thought I should do and his responses was immediate.  He said I should just try to stop producing milk so that I wouldn’t torture myself over the next couple of months pumping.  I agreed with him to an extent.  I did feel like it would make me sad each time I pumped thinking that this milk wouldn’t be going to my baby but someone else’s who was luckier than I was.  I was also concerned with how I would have to rationalize continuing to pump not only to my family and friends but also to my colleagues at work. How would I explain to my boss that I needed to take 3 to 4 20-30 minutes breaks throughout the day to use the lactation room that our company provides knowing full well that I didn’t have a baby at home.  

These and other more selfish thoughts ran through my head like, I wouldn’t be able to conceive another baby during the time I was pumping.  This thought was likely the one that tipped me over the edge into deciding not to pump.  After my son was stillborn I wanted so badly to just have another baby to make everything better again FAST so the thought of having to wait to get pregnant again until after I was done pumping made me firmly decide not to donate. 

 To this day I’m not sure if I made the right decision.  Although I did get pregnant only 3 months after he died, I’m sure I could have waited/grieved a little longer so that I could have pumped and donated my milk to the milk bank for other little babies in need.  If I had done that, then the whole 32 weeks of pregnancy and his death would have had some real, tangible meaning other than what I have concocted in my head.