Sure, there were some days at the beginning that were hard (I think there was a day in there where I said the phrase "latching on" seventy or eighty times as we struggled to get that kid to eat), but all in all, it's been a very rewarding experience and a very meaningful gift that I'm giving to Carter. As if he knows how time-consuming and (at times) annoying nursing can be, Carter will occasionally stop eating and just look up with eyes that say "thank you."
Aww! So totally worth it.
Then...there's pumping.
Pumping is NOT a fantastic thing. Nor is it sweet. Nor does the pump stop and look up to me as if to say "thank you." Not once. Pumping is simply the most annoying thing I have to deal with at work (and that includes dealing with people who come in and immediately say "I hate the dentist).
A few weeks ago we had two days of training through work that took place at a nearby hotel. Of course my pump and I were required to attend. Together. Me and my constant companion.
I called the hotel early to ask if they had a room available where I could pump. The only requirements I asked for were privacy, a place to sit, and a plug.
The hotel's guest services lady was very confused by the question. She pondered aloud, "Well, we can't close the entire business center..." (I later saw that the "entire business center" was a closet-sized room with one ancient computer in it). She wondered a few more things out loud before finally saying, "Well, I guess you can use the bathroom and we'll loan you an extension cord."
True, the bathroom did fulfill my three requirements (barely), but it also required me to look like an idiot.
My place to sit? A toilet seat. And not the kind with a lid. So the choices were to sit on the toilet seat with my pants on (weird) or sit on the floor (gross).
My privacy? Well, the bathroom door did close and lock, but it was the kind with the one inch wide gap between the door and the dividing wall, so any old Joe (or Josephine, rather, since it was a women's restroom) could see in without trying very hard.
My plug? The only one was on the counter next to the sinks, so I had to use an extension cord 15 feet long and string it from the bathroom counters to the floor, across the floor and under the stall door, into the stall and into the pump. Ridiculous.
And all this trouble because a place that sells rooms couldn't find a room for me.
Motherhood is glamorous, no?
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