Don't cry over spilt milk....

I did tonight - a lot and uncontrollably.  I was thawing Beckett's bottle (he only had 3 more full breastmilk bottles left).  When I went to pour the bag into the bottle, it slipped right out of my hands and poured all over the counter.  After cursing myself, I quickly grabbed paper towels and began soaking it up.  As pathetic as I am, I then squeezed that milk right into the bottle.  I worked very hard for all that milk and all that nutrition for my son.  He is going to get every last ounce he can.
After I handed the not quite full bottle (I think I ended up losing a full ounce and a half) to his dad - I walked straight into my room trying to hide the tears.  They kept coming. I would stop them, go back out to do something, look at Beckett and the tears came back.  I have tears as I type this. I have tears because I am angry at myself for quitting so soon, for not continuing. I could've done it for at least 2 more weeks full on, then weaned.  I have not felt so emotionally torn and exhausted for a long time.  I know Beckett is healthy and that is my main concern, however, I am a mom who cares a great deal.  It meant the world to me that I was able to provide for my son.  I know there were so many reasons to discontinue pumping, but there were also many reasons to continue.  I know I made the decision with and for my family and myself, but some part of me wishes things were different. I wish I had more time to be just a mom and nothing else. I found out this past week that in Bulgaria, mothers are given 3 years of maternity leave, with pay (90%, then 80%, then 70% each year). 3 years to nurture their child.  I admit that 3 years may be too much for me but maybe not if I knew I would be financially fine, guaranteed my job upon return, and able to focus solely on my children and husband - not counting down to when I had to go back to work and how that would work for me trying to provide for my son.
They say "Don't cry over spilt milk..." Whoever said that was not a woman who was trying to provide for their child. It was probably a man, who didn't understand the amount of work, effort, and most importantly, love that went into every little drop of breastmilk.  I cried, and I cried a lot.