Me, My Pump, and I

Returning to work after maternity leave has its share of challenges. Not the least of which revolves around the pumping. In actuality, the pumping has to occur before maternity leave is over in order to be prepared for the return to work. And this tends to stress me out as I am constantly staring at the bottle as it fills, hoping I will get enough ounces to make a full bottle for the baby.
And the pump, its just not the same as nursing. Its not warm and snuggle-y, it doesn't look at you and smile or hold your hand. Its just a machine. And it totally distorts your boob. Which used to mean that there was no way I was letting Jonathan anyone in the room at the same time because nothing in the history of ever could be less sexy than a boob being pumped. For those of you who have never had the pleasure, it does not hurt but... It's. SO. Not. Fun.
In saying all that, after I had MRA, I, in some ways, looked forward to my time pumping (at home - not at work). It was my quiet time. I could go to my room, close the door, listen to music or watch tv and for 20, 30, sometimes 40 minutes get some peace and quiet.
As anyone with "two under two" two will tell you, two is a lot more than two. So, with a second bouncing bundle of boy, the idea of this peaceful alone time was something I looked forward to when it came time for pumping again. This time around, however, things are totally different.
There is no alone time.
There is no peace.
There is no QUIET!

Instead, many a morning pumping session has involved the dog jumping on me trying to get some much needed attention. This is usually followed by MRA coming in my room and trying to climb on my lap. Being the helpful lil gentleman that he is, he insists upon turning on (and off) the pump and also holding the tubing for me.

Of course Jonathan has to get ready for work, so he is in the room and because we are all right there, we can't leave ASA in another part of the house. Oh, and then, sometimes, my mom will walk in and out. She has become so comfortable with the pumping that she thinks it speaks to her. It says bathroom, apparently, over and over again. Although the other day, she insisted it said something else. But I can't get past "BATHroom, BATHroom, BATHroom".

Seriously, I have had both bambinos on my lap, trying to hold everything in place while waiting for Jonathan to get out of the shower.

The weekends aren't any better.

What used to be my quiet time is now a goat rodeo. I miss my quiet time and am looking forward to the day I pump no more. And the day I am sure that the pumping is over... I'm gonna run it over with my car. The pump, that is. And when that happens, I won't mind the audience. There may even be a video that gets posted on this very blog. Stay tuned!
 
Me, My pump, and I. Ha, I don't think so.

Obviously not written by my breast friend

Several months ago, my employer switched healthcare providers. As it was, at that time, I was too busy trying to figure out the choreography of being a new mom who was returning to work while breastfeeding (and then the pumping) to pay much attention to the change. The pumping was the focus of my attention back then and I had bought the mac-daddy Madela double, electric pump for speed and efficiency.

Yet, it was complicated.

When I first went back to work, my primary concern was staying on schedule so my milk production did not diminish and getting a lock for my office door. You see, the people in my office are famous for the knockknockknock and walk-right-on-in move.

When I asked my boss about a lock, he asked if I could just do it in the bathroom. I responded with, " Yeah, the moment you decide to eat your lunch on the toilet - I don't think that is the most sanitary place. Could I just swap door handles with some one who has a lock?"

I did get a lock and felt lucky that I could pump in the privacy of my own office. Until the day I forgot to lock the door and was just about to be a little topless and got the knockknockknock and walk-right-on-in move from a male coworker.

When he figured out what was going on, he was pretty embarrassed and I have to say, I thought "Good, that'll teach you not to walk in when a door is closed." He's actually a good guy though, so then I felt a little bad for him.

Anyhow, I have just gotten around to checking out the new health care coverage.  I was on the provider's website this morning where I stumbled into this little gem of exclusions:

Personal Care, Comfort or Convenience Exclusions

· Supplies, equipment and similar incidental services and supplies for personal comfort. Examples include:
- Air conditioners, air purifiers and filters, dehumidifiers.
- Batteries and battery chargers.
- Breast pumps.
- Car seats.
- Chairs, bath chairs, feeding chairs, toddler chairs, chair lifts, recliners.
- Electric scooters.
- Exercise equipment.
- Home modifications such as elevators, handrails and ramps.
- Hot tubs.
- Humidifiers.
- Jacuzzis.
- Mattresses.
- Medical alert systems.
- Motorized beds.
- Music devices.
- Personal computers.
- Pillows.
- Power-operated vehicles.
- Radios.
- Saunas.
- Stair lifts and stair glides.
- Strollers.
- Safety equipment.
- Treadmills.
- Vehicle modifications such as van lifts.
- Video players.
- Whirlpools.


I don't know about you but classifying breast pumps in with saunas, hot tubs, pillows, and personal computers seems perfectly logical, n'est pas?

Got Milk?

My days of nursing have come to an end. Nursing was the hardest thing I have ever started and, now, the hardest thing for me to quit. I officially stopped nursing on Sunday and every day since has been a struggle. Deciding to stop nursing when you still have milk is not as easy as popping a bottle in your baby's mouth.

For one, your body does not yet know to stop the production so it keeps on the keeping on and the milk does not have anywhere to go. So the boobs fill up and sit and it hurts and then they get hard and it hurts a lot more. And then the milk ducts clogg and they get lumpy and you want to cry because now you have HUGE, hard, square boobs that hurt.

I have searched for ways to make this easier, faster, less painful and the only thing that supposedly helps with the discomfort is cabbage.

Yeah, you don't eat the cabbage - you put it in your bra. I don't know about you, but I have never been a fan of cabbage - the eating it that is. Verdict is still out on the cabbage bra but I doubt Victoria's Secret will be jumping on this idea.

And, I miss my morning time with the Notorious MRA. So, on top of the discomfort there is the sadness. On top of which you can add in a good 'ole dose of guilt because you know you could still be giving him the "good stuff" but instead you just mix some formula. Then on the morning of day 4 (today) you think you are going to break. You think, I'll just nurse him a little.

Which is when dear hubby steps in and talks you off the ledge. AAahhhh, I never would have thought there would be so much involved with the quiting. Milk, milk go away!


PS: I should probably add in here that the time in between the difficult start and now has been AMAZING. The Notorious MRA and I have shared some really special moments. If I had to do it over, I wouldn't change a thing.