Fucking Isis pump. Won’t pump and I have an appointment this morning and am leaving Isabelle at home with Alan. I’m ready to throw this fucking thing across the room. Yes my anger has reached from “oh my this isn’t working”, to “damn pump”, to “fucking pump!”. Wanting to throw across the room then STOMP STOMP STOMP!!

Thought drawing would calm me down a bit but NOPE!

UPDATE: (it is an Avent. Fucking Avent pump)

Alan’s been with me since Isabelle was born. But tonight after 7 weeks he’s gone back to work. I cried. I will miss him so much. I kept telling him to buy lottery tickets in the vain hope that we would win and he could be with us always. But no such luck. I’m alone, alone with Isabelle. Waaaahhh!!!