Crying Over Spilled Milk | spelhouseLove

Crying Over Spilled Milk

I spent New Year’s Eve crying in the master bedroom closet. On the floor. With the light out. In complete and total shock (I don’t mean to scare you – everyone is just fine). This was not what I envisioned. In fact, I planned to be locking lips with Hubby and toasting to a happy and healthy 2012. Granny had Asti Spumante chilling in the fridge, and my parents, mother-in-law, hubby and my three children were excited to bring in the new year together as a family of eight. We attended watch night service at 8:30 that evening, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The praise team sang Mighty God by Deitrick Haddon, one of my favorite songs right now, and I jammed with the Holy Ghost.

The kids made New Year’s noisemakers, and I was super excited to countdown and cheer with them at midnight. Once at home, we took a few pictures while we were still in our NYE outfits. Baby girl wore her new purple puma tracksuit because she is a diva.

Just as a mom of babies is never off duty, I started straightening up a bit and walked into the laundry room to throw a dirty onesie onto the growing mound of laundry… and I observed something strange. I wasn’t hearing the usual humming rhythm of the deep freezer. The deep freezer that Hubby purchased on Black Friday. The deep freezer that was safely housing the hundreds of ounces of milk that I’d pumped since October. The deep freezer that was no longer humming because THE POWER STRIP HAD RESET. I opened the freezer lid, and the scene was jarring. The freezer bags were totally thawed. The milk had separated the fatty, creamy hind milk from the foremilk. It was gone. None were salvageable. Some bags had burst open and the bottom of the freezer was lined with the spoiled milk that took blood, sweat and tears to pump out. I was devastated. Devastated. I stood there hovering over what might as well have been a murder scene. It was like I had lost someone very dear to me.

I shouted to Hubby to come see the freezer. He saw the scene and ran to the regular fridge to see if I had any milk stashed there. But there was none. I had moved it all to the deep freezer because sometimes Gadget goes into the regular freezer looking for icees and he leaves the door slightly ajar. I followed the power cord trail to the surge protector and flipped the switch. The power came back to life and the usual hum was heard, but my heart was still frozen. I silently headed into the bedroom and enclosed myself in the closet. It was gone. All that milk that I’d pumped each day for my baby girl to enjoy once I returned to work. Gone in a flash. I finished crying and got myself together, and just like David wept over his child and then got over it, I was over it. There was nothing I could do to bring it back, so the next morning I woke up and started pumping to start from scratch.

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One Response to “Crying Over Spilled Milk”

  1. Oh my goodness….I probably would have cried too :-/

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Hi. I live in North Texas with God, my man, my boys, and a sweet baby girl.
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