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Words...

I have a dear friend who can't stand the word "pita."  She's probably cringing just reading it on my blog.  I never understood how one can have so much hatred for a word, how one little word can cause chills to run down your spine and your face to crumple up and so I've always teased her about it...

Until now.  Now I have two words.  Two words that, when combined, make me want to gag.  And while frequent readers might think they know where I'm going with this (hello, Explosive Poop!), they probably don't. 

My two least favorite words are Breast and Pump.  Separately, I have no problem with them, but combine them into "breast pump" and I can feel my shoulders tense. 

Right now, this is the bane of my existence:




Since starting back at work I've been lugging this thing on the train with me to my office three days a week.  Putting a "do not disturb" sign on the office door two or three times a day.  Strapping on my super-comfy hands-free breast pumping bra and revving that little pump motor up.



(And by the way, for anyone considering breastfeeding I totally recommend getting the hands-free bra, but I DON'T recommend talking on the phone while you're pumping as the other person WILL hear it... Unless you're talking to someone who's been there, done that!).

I've grown to love breastfeeding.  After getting over the initial shock of being the only one able to feed the baby in the middle of the night, and once we both figured it all out, it's become something that is so natural and easy and completely convenient.  I don't have to get up in the morning and make a bottle, I don't have to take bottles with me everywhere I take the baby, I don't have to spend time washing all those bottle parts, and it's a good excuse to sit on the couch and watch crappy t.v. Oh yeah, and I get to bond with my son in a way nobody else ever will...

But the breast pump is a whole different story... On work days I have to make sure I have all the parts cleaned out and packed up (and there are MANY little parts), remember to grab the icepack out of the freezer, and then lug that stupid thing in it's ugly bag all the way to work.  The "stylish bag," as it's described on the Medela website, has room for everything you need - the parts, the cooler, the icepack - and room for your cell phone and wallet too.  But because my commute is almost an hour and a half every day I need more than just a cell phone and wallet- I need reading material, a notebook, my office keys, a water bottle.  And so I now carry the lovely breastpump bag along with a totebag back and forth. 

At the end of the day I have to pack everything up again, trying to remember to grab the milk I expressed out of my office fridge (I consider myself VERY lucky to have my own mini-fridge in my office, because I'd be super grossed out if I had to keep it in the communal fridge in the hallway and would have given up long ago) and lug it all home again.  Let me tell you right now that there's nothing more upsetting than getting halfway home on a Thursday evening and realizing that you left the cooler and the milk in your office fridge and that most likely it will go bad before you get back to the office on Monday.  That's a whole day's worth of pumping down the tubes. 

Add to all of this pain and annoyance the fact that when I pump 2-3 times a day I only get enough milk to fill 1 bottle for LP (he goes to day care with 3 bottles) and it's no surprise that there have been many times that I've thought about not bothering with the pumping thing any more.  Sometimes, I'll admit, I don't bother.  I'm comfortable going all day without pumping- at the beginning I would have been sore and in pain by the end of a long day but that's not an issue any more- and so on some days, I leave the bag at home. 

Without the bag sitting on my desk at work, staring me down, taunting me, talking to me in breast pump language (many women say their pump talks to them when it's running- mine alternates between saying "gotta pump, gotta pump, gotta pump" over and over again and "nip-ple, nip-ple, nip-ple...") I get to pretend, for a few hours anyway, that I'm a single girl living in the city again, carrying a cute bag, wearing makeup and heels and making plans to meet up with friends later for drinks...

At the end of the day though, when I get home and my little guy smiles at me I forget about my two least favorite words and know that wrestling with the pump every day is totally worth it.  Because my two most favorite words in the English language right now, "Little Paul", totally make me forget about my least favorites...

4-19-2009 5-21-45 PM81 copy by you.





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