my pump and me

ATTN MEN: DO NOT READ. NIPPLES AHEAD! AND NOT IN THE SEXY WAY!

I couldn’t decide between invoking Michael Moore before talking about boobs, or calling this post, “Self Expressions.”

Did I make the right choice?

pump

First of all, yes. We like it like that.

My pump and I have always gotten along swimmingly, and I have enjoyed our increased time together since going back to work.

When Molly was all, “I refuse to eat anywhere near that golf-ball-sized benign tumor under your nipple,” my pump embraced it without protest.

My pump has been there for me at all hours. In the car. During dinner. And now, at work. It does not painfully tease the breast by getting milk to come in and then refusing to eat. It does not randomly barf up ounces of breast milk mid-session. It does not get the hiccups, and it will never get teeth. PLUS it has the courtesy to eat from two boobs at the same time. Efficiency!

If my pump had big, blue eyes, or if it could flash a huge, drunk grin at the end of the meal, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it exclusively.

But alas. It does make for a lot of dishes.

I had roughly 20 ounces of milk leftover from my first week of The Dairy System. Molly has never been able to keep up with the pump, but at this rate, I’ll be able to bottle-feed her from my frozen back-up supply until she is 6 years old. This is a huge relief because I was worried to death that I would have enough. Here’s to hoping it lasts!

I am (still) totally in love with the Lactation Lounge. It still doesn’t have a proper nickname.

There is only one hitch: I can’t help but feel judged by the press workers in the warehouse who see me sneak up and back into my little room by myself three times a shift. They all look suspicious, and they should, because the room is sort of a big, locked closet within another big, locked closet.

WHAT IS THAT GIRL DOING IN THERE?!

Every time I have a particularly good session, I resist the urge to open the door, run out to the top of the stairs and hold the bottle of breastmilk for all to admire.

“Behold! Nine ounces of human breastmilk!”

and they will all stop the printing presses and look up to admire my mammaric miracle.

That’s how I imagine it, anyway.

Eric said if I was particularly impressed with myself, I could just take my milk back into the TOP offices and show the staff.

I should mention that he has a lot of daughters.

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  • mandy

    Yay for boobs! That’s great that everything is working so well. That has to be a huge relief! I hope being back at work is going well.