Eatpooplove’s Weblog



Notes from the pumping room

Modern inventions for the most part, don’t suck, save for one, the breast pump.  The breast pump was invented by someone, clearly not a woman, to convince women who are working that they somehow also have to pump enough times a day to provide solely breastmilk for their child when they are away from them.   The breast pump was invented by the person who decided it was NOT OKAY for the modern woman to carry her baby in a sling with her to work and to wear him all day while she slaved away at her computer or her telephone or in her field or wherever. Like most working moms who breastfeed, I spend a lot of time with my breast pump. I have come to get used to these 15 minute sessions whereby I lose all sense of intimacy and self, strip off my shirt, slap on my pumping bra (the hands free one with the holes for your nipples that allows you to do things like kick your cousin’s ass in scrabulous while pumping OR call a co worker upstairs who will inevitably ask, What is that noise in the background?) and eek out as much milk as I can for Boozo. I dutifully cart this milk home with me (on public transportation mind you) in a little cooler each evening, put it in the fridge and then portion it out in bottles each morning that I put in another little cooler, truck to daycare with Boozo and place in the fridge at daycare.  My life revolves around how much milk I can produce. I have to schedule meetings around pumping and say things like, I can’t meet at 10:30 b/c I have “something.”  If I happen to get more milk than usual, I am cheery and lovely all day. If I get less? I’m a heinous bitch who can’t produce and who has visions of formula somehow forcing her child to attend a state school.  If I run late for a pumping session b/c I’m in a meeting or on the phone one of my breasts inevitably balloons up larger than the other one and I look like a cy-boob. In short, my day revolves around my breast pump, around my milk supply, around feeding Boozo and around attempting to fit my working life into and around my pumping life. It’s a tall order, this working mother stuff. I try to make the pumping sessions at least a respite from the craziness for me. I catch up on email. Drink a cold glass of water, chew a fresh piece of gum and look forward to when I get home tonight and Boozo is fresh from a bath and wanting to nurse. Lately he reaches up to touch my face with his little warm hand. He pats my cheek. He is making sure of me. Maybe he is thanking me for the food he ate that day. He won’t ever know the lengths to which I went to get it for him but hopefully he’ll have some sense that the ends of the earth wouldn’t be too far. 

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Comments

  1. * eza91804 says:

    My latest vision is me, buying a Whisper Wear breast pump, and having it go constantly.

    Have you seen it? It’s a wearable, quiet breastpump so you can go about your day, pumping away.

    Posted 9 years, 5 months ago


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