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by Jaya Davis
I'm an office manager for a small to mid-sized law firm.
I knew I wanted to breastfeed my son, but was unprepared for the effort it takes to maintain this commitment and
work 40 hours a week.
Although definitely doable, pumping 4 times a day is not always a pleasant task.
When I returned to work, I initially pumped in the restroom.
I quickly realized that sitting on the toilet (no cover) was not comfortable and the outlet was no where near a
stall so I'd be going through batteries like crazy.
So I switched to my office - much more privacy but no water.
I've since found the Medela breastpump wipes and use them between full cleanings.
When I need to pump, I shut my office door and close the blinds.
One day however, my boss needed to put some checks in my filing cabinet. His assistant, seeing my door closed, told him I had gone for the day.
He proceeded to take out his keys to my office.
Fortunately for all involved, he noticed the thin strip of light coming from under my door and knocked first.
If not for that last minute glance, we would have both been
"utterly" embarrassed when he opened my door and saw his employee being milked behind her desk.
The well meaning assistant took it upon herself to laminate brightly colored signs that read
"pumping" for me to hang on my door to prevent this near catastrophe.
I do not feel it necessary however to broadcast to whomever happens to pass my door exactly what
I'm doing.
If the door is closed, come back!
The Black Tie Function
One evening I had to attend a black tie function with my husband.
Knowing that I would be gone longer than three hours, I dutifully packed my pump.
Since it was in a nice hotel and we were dressed appropriate to the situation, I decided not to lug in my stylish although not formal bag of pumping equipment.
It would be dark, I reasoned, so I left it in the car to pump there.
We chose a parking spot facing another building on the very last row of the lot.
By the time dinner was served, I had gone four hours since feeding/pumping last.
After dinner I made my way through the parking lot to the car.
I quickly realized that the evening gown could not simply be pulled up or down.
The gown was the only one that remotely fit after having my son and there was no extra room.
I was wearing a shaper - a fat controller - that was similar to a strapless short dress,
nude in color.
So, off goes my gown, over my head. I drape it on the driver's seat to prevent as many wrinkles as possible and pull down the top of the
"shaper" to hook myself up.
Only about a minute in, the pump batteries start dying. I wasn't worried since I had brought spares.
However, because I had waited so long and had just started the pumping session, milk started spewing everywhere, on the car, on my dress (yes on the other seat),
and on me.
As quickly as possible I replaced the batteries and started again.
Then I realized that waiting to pump until after finishing dinner, meant that everyone
else had finished dinner too.
Although dancing had just begun, I guess many people didn't feel like cutting a rug because they were cutting out of there as fast as they could.
This lead to the problem of guests getting into their cars on either side of me.
I tried as best I could to not be visible but at this point I felt like, if you
don't want to see me pumping food for my child, then try not to look.
Finally I wrapped things up, hauled the dress back over my head, and returned to the party.
My husband and I danced to a few songs and luckily got home before another pumping session was
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