A pump in time saves minds

standard January 16, 2008 5 responses

I pull open the heavy door and slip into the warm dark room lugging my laptop and bag behind me. I pause for a minute with my eyes closed before turning on the light. Breathe, just breathe. The quiet surrounds me, soothing me, allowing me to catch my breath for the first time today. A minute is all I have to spare. My breasts are full and aching and I only have twenty minutes to empty them, so I rouse myself, flick on the lights and get down to business.

I pull the pump off the shelf, plug it in, assemble the parts, pop open my laptop and get settled to express some milk. I hate the pump. I hate its ugly brown cover. I hate its relentless suction. But mostly, I hate that it’s not my baby. What I don’t hate is the fact that twice a day I get to step away from my desk, from the constant barrage of questions and demands, and come hide in this over heated office for twenty minutes of peace.

I log onto the computer and check my email. I visit a few blogs and check up on some friends. Sometimes I chat on the phone. And at other times I even do a little work. But for those precious minutes I’m away from my coworkers, away from demanding, needy people, and I can regroup, catch my breath, and get ready for the next onslaught.

Pumping. It’s the new smoking break.

Hey! Check it out! I’m an inspiration.

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5 responses

  • I don’t want to make light of your post so I won’t say it is funny…I did find it entertaining and enlightened though.

    My wife is goiing through the same thing right now. She is a teacher and has to find a closet where she pumps and grades papers, etc. And I know she is constantly reminded of what a poor substitute that is for our son – and for her.

    Indirectly, I feel your pain. Thanks for sharing.

  • Secretly, this post made me jealous. I was unable to nurse Lilly although I went to hell & back trying. Everytime I feed her now, I have the same, yet opposite feelings to what you wrote about. This silicone & plastic object is a poor substitute for me.

    Thanks for the comment on my blog 🙂

  • When T was born, I was transcribing on midnights at the police HQ. I used to lug my pump and cooler bag with me. Day shift had a room where they could go. I had the ladies’ restroom. I sat in a stall, plugged in the pump at the wash basin (with the aid of an extension cord) and pumped. I wonder what some of the female officers thought when they came in to use the facilities. :p

  • I had to pump from time to time, and my milk just DID NOT want to let down. I’d have to think *Hawaii. Baby’s face. Waterfalls. Unicorns.*


    Good work, keep doing the best you can 🙂

  • Congrats on being an inspiration to another (other) writers. I loved the piece she was referring to.

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