Crying Over Spilled Milk

I’ve been working on putting together a series of posts called Tales from the NICU that I’m hoping to put out soon.  In the meantime, the kiddos have finally come home and Mom and I have gone from parenting ‘lite’ to the real deal. Here’s a snapshot of some of the fun I’ve had this week.  This is effectively the modern equivalent of wearing a sandwich board in the middle of the town square.  Enjoy!

I looked in disbelief as 600ml of the breastmilk I was packaging into bottles spread out on the counter and dripped down to the floor.  It was like someone had sucked the air out of the room.  My wife had seen the whole thing happen. Almost an entire day’s worth of pumping was ruined and making a bit of a mess along the way.  I grabbed a towel… The most normal thing I could think to do when dealing with a spill. 

I could see how much work went into pumping 8 times a day to make enough milk to feed our daughters.  I have an immense respect for that work and know how carefully the end product needs to be handled.  I’d joked that I felt like I was handling plutonium every time I picked up an open container of milk.  I always thought about one of the infamous accidents during the development of the atomic bomb, the demon core incident.  Basically, an experiment had been set up where the only thing stopping a plutonium bomb core from going supercritical and releasing radiation was the blade of a flathead screwdriver held by one of the physicists. Long story short, during one test, the screwdriver slipped, and radiation was released.  The guy holding the screwdriver died 9 days later, but he knew immediately that he was already as good as dead. Much like actual plutonium, I knew that even a little mistake while I was holding a Nalgene full of breast milk could have a bad outcome.  Now there had finally been an accident, and I was pretty sure I was as good as dead as well.

“Whaaat juuust happened?!” She said to me? Inside I’m thinking, “Shit, shit, shit…SHIT.” It might have been more vulgar, but to be honest it’s a bit of a blur.  “I spilled the milk!” I said. “In the mixing container!” As if that wasn’t obvious enough.  In reality my wife looked way more calm then I was expecting given the situation.  This made me even more nervous.  I was afraid she looked calm because she was slowly scanning the kitchen trying to decide on what kitchen implement to use as a weapon.  Paring knife? Frying pan? One of the 3 rolling pins she got for Christmas last year...

I think I briefly considered if Seppuku was the appropriate measure to maintain my honor after what just happened. But that would make even more of a mess, and Japanese ritual disembowelment just didn’t seem right when the only knife within reach was made in Germany.  I turned around to face my wife.  “I’m so sorry!”.

The syringe I was using to suck milk out to fill up the next day’s bottles had broken.  The rubber gasket popped off as I was pulling up on the plunger.  When it popped my left hand jerked down and knocked over the container.  I somehow managed to catch it with about 200 ml still in it. But the reason didn’t matter, ultimately I had just screwed up, big time.  

I spent the rest of the night cleaning up the mess and finishing prepping bottles with what fresh milk we had left.  I’ve gotten pretty good at maintaining a poker face when things really start going sideways in life, but I honestly felt terrible. I could only imagine how mad I’d be if I had spent that many hours doing ANYTHING, much less doing something that was providing food for our children.  But I learned something from this.  I need a fresh syringe so I don’t have to worry about it breaking, I need a more stable mixing container so nothing can tip it over, apparently I need to be even more careful than I already was being. 

I just really hope my wife understands how sorry I am, and how terrible I feel, and how much I wish I could just make it right.  Someone told me that one of the hardest things about parenting, is that it’s one of the few problems in life you can’t simply solve with more hard work. I get the feeling this is going to be the first in a long line of experiences where the best thing I can do is just maintain my composure and get back to the grind.