No, not your American Express card. Your breast pump. Your electric breast pump. Because here’s what happened when I did…
My husband Jason and I were headed to New York for the weekend. We were leaving our 2-year-old son and 5-month-old nursing daughter in the capable hands of Susie, our life-saving baby sitter. I packed all the cute clothes I could fit into and headed for the airport. I felt so relaxed, sitting in the terminal, reading a magazine. We boarded our plane and took our seats. Then I remembered.
“Oh no! Jason, I forgot the pump.” Not just my pump. THE pump. The miraculous little machine that gathers those drops of gold to be frozen for baby. The pump that let mommy go out with her friends last Thursday night. The pump that gives a few extra hours of sleep when early-rising Dad takes a feeding. The pump that enables a nursing mom to take a weekend getaway to New York. THE pump. And we had just begun our six-hour flight.
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