Mum’s Op and an Unexpected Review of the Nuby, Breast Express Breast Pump

I’m currently staying in a hotel in Sheffield as my Mum has just had an operation to repair her (recreated) bladder. The operation is over and thank God it went well, although she’s still in lots of pain. Honestly, it seems rather ridiculous to me that they (you know, those medical people) can clone a sheep but can’t create decent post-operative pain relief. My poor mum’s had 3 big operations in as many years and it’s been the same for all of them. Para-bloody-cetamol they offer her! She hasn’t got a hangover, she’s recovering from major surgery for crying out loud!

Sorry, I’m ranting. I’m here alone, Ferg’s at home taking care of all the kids as children under 12 aren’t allowed on the wards. I wanted to be free to see Mum whenever I could as she’s miles from home (Cambridge) and miles away from her army of wonderful friends. At least I can be her familiar face for a few days even though I just feel helpless and powerless to do anything that makes this any easier for her.

I’ve never been away from my babies for this long and it feels particularly strange as I’m still breastfeeding Izzy. I’m not sure I realised how much she feeds, as one major and hugely underestimated by-product of being away is that my boobs are continuing to produce lots and lots and LOTS of milk. I woke up this morning with boobs the size and consistency of unripe melons and two massive wet patches on my pyjama top. They were so sore, that I felt like running out into the street, grabbing the first baby I saw and forcibly offering my services as a wet-nurse. I’d forgotten how painful it is having engorged breasts and although I tried expressing by hand I only got three drops out which, believe me was NOT worth the agony.

So what to do? Buy a breast pump that I would never use again or or, or what? Well, I called the maternity unit at Sheffield Hallam Hospital and asked if it’s possible to donate breast milk and it turns out that it is! Unfortunately though you have to register and have your milk tested which would take quite a while. This was not going to be a good solution, especially as I’d had a large GnT and a pint of cider last night (apparently it’s dangerous for babies to mix their booze). I then asked if they could lend me one but apparently they don’t randomly offer out breast pumps to passing strangers which I thought was rather rude.

Anyway I reluctantly found the breast pump section in Boots and discovered a little beauty of a pump. It was only about £11 and teeny. Most importantly it’s very, very simple with only two bits to deal with, a pump and a bottle, super diddly ooper.

I can’t really give you much more info about this breast-pump other than the fact that it successfully gets milk out of my boobs and doesn’t have a million pieces to put together. Therefore, as far as I’m concerned it’s brilliant. It’s small, the little container it comes with is nicely squishy and and er that’s it really. In my experiences all breast pumps kind of hurt. It’s not a fun experience expressing milk, but when your breasts are so full of milk that your nipples go completely flat, then breast pumps are very useful. Don’t bother with more expensive ones that will hurt just as much, get this one which does the job at minimum cost and with minimum equipment.


What’s going on?

Something very strange happened yesterday. We’d just had a lovely family birthday celebration for my Father in Law who was 84 and a belated celebration for Maisie who was 4 in May. Stu (FIL) brought a gorgeous cake and mum made a scrummy trifle that was so good we just ate it before I could take a picture!

After food and goodbyes, Izzy wanted to watch, In the Night Garden and Maisie and Sam went to play with their friend next door, which left me, Ferg and my Mum to have a ruddy good sit down. Mum fell asleep and Ferg and I read the papers. Yes you did read that correctly, WE READ THE PAPERS! Not only that but we read them outside in the sunshine! There were no interruptions, no badly timed trips to the toilet, no requests for food or drink no screams or calls for mediation. We could hardly believe our luck!


When the troops returned they had a picnic in full fancy dress and then played beautifully. What a weird and wonderful day…