Adventures in Nursing

As I sit here at work going brain dead from the boredom, it occurs to me that I have a story to tell you!  I was struck today by the hilarity of a situation that I find myself in each week while here at my workplace.  Ok, so it’s not exactly hilarious, but if I don’t think of it as funny it threatens to become a very “glass-half-empty” situation and nothing good comes of those.  So, I choose to take the high road!

                As you all know I have a little man at home who requires high volumes of milk for sustenance.  Before he was born we were faced with the question of how to provide him with this sustenance.   To us it seemed like a no-brainer!  I had nursed my other two kids without a problem and I would nurse this one!  The only difference this time around is that I am working part time. With the other two kids, I quit my job when they were born.  So, with this decision made I went on the hunt for a good pump so that I could still work and provide him with said sustenance.   Now here is where this story gets “funny”. 

                When I came back to work after my maternity leave, I was discussing arrangements with my boss.   There was some figuring to be done because, you see, most of the offices in our building have windows that look out into the hallway.  (NO THANK YOU!)  My mom occupied one of the only offices that did not have a window until just before Alex was born, so that was no longer an option for me.  Those who have gone before me always used our Archive Room.  It’s not as nice as it sounds.  It’s what I would describe as a glorified bomb shelter with cinder block walls, a hard tile floor and wall-to-wall filing cabinets.  Not exactly the place you want to be when trying to complete a task that requires relaxation and comfort.  However, this is the best option unless I want to either sit in the lady’s bathroom (EW!) or take my chances with the windows.  Really, it shouldn’t be this hard to be discreet!

**Another funny story to go with the current funny story:  Since Alex was born, Gabe has referred to nursing as “milking”.  As in, “Mom’s milking the baby” and “Mom, does the baby need to milk?”  I know, too cute right?  I refuse to correct him!  The other day I brought my nephew, Noah,  with me to pick Gabe up from school.  Gabe and Noah are about the same age and Noah is the baby of his family so there is no “milking” going on in his household.  After picking Gabe up we were going to meet my sister-in-law at Chick-fil-a for lunch, but the baby needed to eat so I picked Gabe up and let the boys play in the van while I fed Alex in the parking lot.  After a few minutes Noah says to me, “What are you doing sitting up there?”  to which Gabe answered, “She’s milking the baby!”  I LOVE IT!  **

                So, every Wednesday and Thursday at 1:00 pm I announce that "I’m going to milk" (my work ladies are in on the joke!) and I gather my supplies!  I have my bag containing the pump itself.  It’s about the size of a messenger bag – I could easily be heading out to my car for lunch with a laptop in tow.  I take my cell phone to keep track of the time.  I take my Nook – because it’s my tradition to read when I milk, and it’s the only time in my day when I’m sitting uninterrupted long enough to enjoy the escape!  And lastly I take the sign that I made to go on the door of the Archive Room/Bomb Shelter because even though you have to have a key to get in and there’s only one key available at a time, I’m paranoid that someone is going to barge in on me.  The sign says "NURSING MOM!  PLEASE!  DO NOT ENTER!" and has a big bottle on it (in case my intruder failed to read the words, I’m hoping the picture will tip them off!) and one of those big DO NOT ENTER signs.  So, I’ve got my supplies and I trek through the building to the cabinet containing the key to my hideaway, retrieve the key, put my sign on the door and set up shop!  There is one table in the room containing a computer, a wire basket/inbox, and a sign in/out sheet for any materials coming and going.  Unless of course, someone has recently been in the Archive Room in which case it’s very likely that they’ve left their mess all over the table.  So, I clear off the contents of the table, get my stuff out and pull up the most uncomfortable office chair you’ve ever had the displeasure of sitting in.  Most days I can block out the unclean, uncomfortable environment that I’m sitting in and enjoy my book, but there is still the occasional moment when I sit there filled with terror at the thought that whoever is walking by will hear the “WAA WAA WAA” of the pump and come to the door to investigate what is going on in there!  So far so good!  The most dramatic thing to happen to me in the Archive Room is myself knocking over the bottles of freshly pumped milk.  In which case I literally cried over spilled milk. 

        So, there you have it.  The things I go through to bring milk home to my little chunker!  I wouldn't have it any other way! :)