Working Pumping Mom

I weaned Ilan at 7 months, because it got too hard to keep up my supply during my days in the office. It was hard for me to take all the breaks that pumping required, and I got irritated by the air-tight scheduling I needed to make it work.  I miss nursing Ilan, but I do not miss my breast pump.  I found this abandoned post from early June and I'm copying it below, since it depicts a bright spot in the whole working pumping mom experience.

"Last week I worked a full time schedule, attending Book Expo America, a trade show for book industry professionals. I am still breastfeeding Ilan, so I brought my breast pump along. Every 3 or 4 hours I took a break from the meetings and events to walk down a series of flights of stairs and long concrete hallways to the Nurses' Station, where I was given one of the two exam rooms to pump in.

On my first visit to the Nurses' Station I was anxious and slightly out of breath; I'd rushed there and was trying to squeeze in a pump session between meetings. Both rooms were occupied by other lactating moms. After 10 minutes they were still not finished, and I couldn't wait much longer. The nurse suggested I pump in the bathroom, which was standing room only, or the supply closet (though I could see she was hesitant to leave me alone with access to all their drugs). I finally asked if I could simply pump with one of the other moms. Which is how I found myself sitting on a foot stool in a room with another topless mom in slacks and fancy shoes, pumping milk with a breast pump / shoulder bag designed to look discreet but immediately identifiable as a breast pump by its sheer bulk and lack of style.

Hilariously, the other mom ended up being the publicist for one of my authors - someone I had wanted to meet with but couldn't fit into my schedule. So we had a meeting, there in the exam room, accompanied by the air hiss sound of our pumps working away. If you have never conducted business while topless and hooked up to a machine, well, it's strange, but both of us had long since mastered the art of e-mailing and taking phone calls while pumping, so it didn't really phase us.

Throughout the week I took the long walk to the Nurses' Station many times, and ran into  other pumping moms. There were only about 7 or 8 of us, which may not seem like a lot, but it was eye opening for me. Pumping at work is isolating. Sometimes I forget that mine is not the only life that is messy and complicated, and that the decision to pump, which feels like I'm trying to be in two places at once, is one that others are likely conflicted about too. I felt a great sense of comraderie for these working moms, hustling through dark hallways to wrestle off their tops, pump milk for their babies, and rush back to their meetings in time to pretend like everything is business as usual, bottles of warm milk buried deep in their bags like secrets, next to their catalogs and rights lists. I wanted to sit down with them and hear their stories and laugh with them. But the working pumping mom does not have any free time, especially at these fairs. The most we can afford is a knowing look, a conspiratorial smirk, before it's back to the business of passing ourselves off as regular people.

Thank you, lactating mothers of Book Expo America, for making me feel less alone."

If you're wondering how I felt about my breastpump when Roan was this age, you can read an Ode to My Breastpump.