Working and Pumping

Disclaimer: In the following post I recount the challenges I find in breastfeeding and working. Nothing in the text below is meant to insult mommas who decide to formula feed. I’m not saying it’s harder to be a  mom when you’re working. I’m not saying it’s harder to be a mom when you’re working and nursing. This is just the challenges I’ve come across.

It’s dawn and I’m sitting in my bedroom chair hoping the cadence of my pump is keeping Donovan in slumber land and not disturbing him. This is the beginning of my routine. Each morning I creep to my chair, before everyone is up, to pump. I get the most milk in the morning and I’m always thrilled to see how many ounces I got. It usually follows a 5am nursing session since I know I will still get milk and it keeps supply up. The ensuing chaos of getting everyone out the door can be so complicated. To simplify I try to pack the kids meals the night before; Izzy gets lunch and milk and Donovan gets breast milk and a nipple for the bottles.  I also set aside empty bottles to take with me. In the morning I have to remember two ice packs; one for Donovan and one for the milk I make throughout the day. On Mondays I have to also pack the pump parts that I sterilized over the weekend. With so much to remember it would be easy to forget an important piece and ruin the whole morning.

Two hours later and I’m in front of my computer typing away and over the clickity-clack of my keyboard is the familiar cadence of my pump. Earlier in the morning I surfaced pump appropriate attire from my closet. That’s right, pump appropriate. I’m not talking about a nursing bra. I could spend a whole post venting about the lack of attractive bras; I’m a mom not a granny damn it. I’m talking about clothes that make pumping easily accessible. That means no dresses. No way would I be hauling a dress over my head to pump four times during my work day. Button down shirts are nice, but if I wear a cami underneath then I’m still pulling something up over my head so the benefit of buttons is reduced. With my limited wardrobe options I’m lucky I’m not wearing the same outfit each day.

After the pump has sucked me dry it’s time to clean up and make sure I’ve redressed appropriately. Step one, remove pump parts. Step two redress. Step three, clean and put away parts and milk. Sounds easy enough right? Wrong. The window of time I have to get this all done is so short that I find myself picking up the phone to start a conference call with one hand, while snapping my nursing bra with the other. An embarrassing moment could arise from a number of reasons. Milk spillage on my silk shirt that leaves a stain. Pump phalanges (or air horns as my husband refers to them) accidentally left on my desk. (Hey maybe I could turn more people away from my office just by leaving them out?) A shirt that hasn’t been readjusted to cover my recently inhabited and now lumpy belly. A forgotten hands free pumping bra left out. All opportunities for humiliation. Perhaps the most embarrassing to me is the innocent knock on my door and my meek response, “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” It’s as if someone was interrupting potty time.

After I pack up I have a two hour window of freedom. But I’m not completely free. I worry about getting enough milk the next time so I take supplements, Mother Love. It’s a mixture of fenugreek, fennel and blessed thistle. Great for increasing milk supply. Not so helpful on my stomach. At one time I was drinking a special tea to help and that wreaked havoc on my system, so I’m back to just a supplement. Not only do I have to I take things to increase the supply, but I have to watch out for things that’ll decrease it, namely caffeine. Chocolate and coffee are my two best friends at work. Coffee to keep me going after yet another long night nursing Donovan every two hours, and chocolate because it makes me happy. (Yes, food makes me happy. I’m admitting it, that’s the first step right?)

The cycle repeats another three times before I get home and actually nurse Donovan. It’s proven that too much stress can deplete milk supply, and it’s ironic to me that the whole process is so stressful. In a perfect world, moms would have job protection for the first year of baby’s life and we wouldn’t have to worry about pumping like maniacs just to squeeze out enough milk for the next day. We’d be able to nurse our babies and enjoy it, without the drag of re-entering the work force and pumping the day away. But even with all of these annoyances, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I make it to the end of the day and I hold my little baby and nurse him and know that I’m doing what I think is best for him. And that makes me happy.