Every time I open the freezer drawer, I see a bag of frozen breastmilk staring at me.  It has been waiting patiently for me to acknowledge it for months now.  But I don’t.  I usually just push it deeper into the drawer as I dig around for popsicles or pizza for the kids.  Day after day, I see it there, and yet I cannot do the simple thing I know I need to do: throw it away.