Last night I got home very late and very tired. Yeah, I am nursing mom and I was entitled to leave the office an hour earlier than I actually did. But we had some clients coming in first thing this morning and there were some reports I had to urgently get ready for them.
Since traffic from my office to the house has never being too bad, I figured that the 1 hour overtime wouldn’t upset my schedule too badly. But unfortunately for me, an accident had occured along my route, forcing me to face a jam that was beyond impossible.

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By the time I got home I was so tired that all I could do was give my 4 month old a feed, get her into bed and then get myself into bed as well. I was lucky that my 3-year was already asleep, so I didn’t have to deal with him at all.

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Now, I am very particular that my daughter is exclusively on breastmilk during her first 6 months and that’s why I usually get up at about 4 am to begin expressing out. But today, I guess because I was so tired from the day before, I didn’t open my eyes till some minutes past 5. I jumped out of bed and started out on my own personal ‘mission impossible’. I had no idea how I was going to get both myself and the children ready  and also express out enough milk for the day before 6:30, my compulsory take-off time. I didn’t know how I was going to do it but I knew that I just had to somehow find a way around it. So I got started and was glad to find out that my ‘mommy powers’ were still tact. As in, I did it all!!!… without the help of my husband who was away on a business trip and my nanny who usually resumed a few minutes before 6:30.

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But just when I was feeling so proud of myself the unthinkable happened. You see, as I was about closing that final bottle of milk, my overly energetic  3-year old bumped into me, causing the bottle to slide out of my hand. As I watched the milk spill out of the bottle , I honestly felt like I was caught up in the middle of an unending horror movie. This definitely could not be happening to me. Of all days, why today? How could I possibly be expected to choose between an all-important early morning meeting and my hungry baby?

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Actually looking back, I probably could have saved that bottle of milk but I think the shock and the cruciality of that moment were what numbed my muscles. I just couldn’t move as I watched my worst nightmare materialize, leaving me almost in tears as I wondered who actually said ‘There’s no use crying over spilled milk!’

Dear moms, is there really no use crying over spilled milk? Have you ever had to deal with spilled breast milk before? How did you pick yourself back up again?

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