In which a broken fridge inspires reflection on breastfeeding and adoption

So our fridge/freezer went on the blink last week. We lost everything. The first thing most mothers I know asked? No, I did not have a freezer full of "backup" breast milk. I never made enough milk to have any backup. I never even made enough to feed my newborn 8 pound baby exclusively, an experience which was surprisingly and really really traumatic, clearly reflective of my FAILURE as a mother and the definitive evidence that I am the fraud I know myself to be. Because if I were out on the savannah or on the tundra somewhere a million years ago, my bubba wouldn't have survived, or I would have had to let my sister (little Miss Milky OverMcProducerPants) nurse him. I guess it took my freezer shutting down to make me just the littlest, tiniest bit thankful that I didn't have a big backup supply to lose.

(What am I complaining about, anyway? I'm still nursing at 10 months, yay me! Bubba is blissfully unaware of his near-perishing out on the tundra because of my deficiencies and giggles with joy every time he sees my boobies.)

So, the contents of my fridge on the way to the compost:

Which of course we must do here in Seattle, I think it's even against the law not to. This doesn't include the dairy products, most of which went down the toilet (eww), or the meat, which went in the trash. But we recycled most of the containers, and all in all not a huge amount of trash. All is fixed now, thanks to Victor from AAA Able appliance repair company, and in the end we were without for 3 days before we got the all-clear to restock the fridge.

But, you know? Life is hard without a fridge. Surprisingly disruptive. Like camping in my own house. It's oddly comforting to know that there is mayonnaise should I need it, a comfort I only pause to think about when it is gone.

Here, better than spoiled food:


This afternoon we were at a back-to-school party and two of the guests are a couple whose adopted son is 3 now. The way they got him? The birth mom wanted to do adoption, the birth dad did not. But the birth dad never came to the hospital. So the birth mom waited, and cared for the baby for TWO DAYS in the hospital and when the dad never came she called the adoption agency for my friends to complete the adoption. I think I would die. Really. I'm thrilled my friends got a baby to love and raise. But it makes me want to make this world better, you know? So fewer women who have babies have to be in situations so bad that calling an adoption agency after two days (two days! I was so in love at two days I couldn't be away from him for a second) is the best choice available.

But I digress. Here's to refrigeration! And to boobies! The ones that make 10 course meals and the ones that "just" make a giggly happy trickle of dessert, and everything in between. And the ones that cushion a heart that shatters every day because the bubba your body made has a new mommy.