I hear babies cry, I watch them grow, they'll learn much more than we'll ever know and I think to myself, what a wonderful world...

Since one of the main reasons I blog so regularly is to capture all of our memories for Jackson (and his future brothers and sisters) to read one day I also find that it is a good opportunity to document future "friendly reminders" to my darling son of how far my love for him goes and how when he reads this many years down the road he should pick up the phone- or better yet drive/fly/run to me- and give me the biggest hug as a little "thank you." I'm just saying... oh, and flowers would be a nice touch too. 

So, to my point of the day- as you know, my love for him goes far and deep. There is nothing I would not do for that chubby little man who is sleeping peacefully as I write this. And this past week as I traveled solo that included (note: I apologize in advance to anyone who gets uncomfortable with 'breastfeeding talk' but then again, get over it..) anyway, this love included pumping in the most awkward places every few hours over the course of my trip to the other side of the world in order to keep my milk supply up. 

These awkward places included many, many restroom stalls- some more pleasant than others in a wide variety of places from airports to restaurants to office buildings to airplanes. Yes, I had nearly 40 hours on planes...so you can imagine how many times I had to squeeze into the tiny airplane bathroom and take care of my "mama business." This, of course, resulted in some very judgmental stares on occasion from people wondering why I was in these bathroom stalls for so long and what was that weird noise coming from the room. And then the more welcomed "I feel for you" looks from fellow moms who watched as I cleaned my pump parts and poured that oh-so-precious-milk down the sink when finished. These adventures also included carrying the what-appears-to-be-light-but-turns-out-to-be-quite-heavy-after-awhile pump around with me literally at all times on my trip. No, literally, I can think of only one evening for a total of 3 hours when I was not attached to the pump bag. 

But you know what, I would do it again a thousand times if I needed to. I love you, Jackson Philip! Now go call your mother. And send her flowers. And some chocolate too.