Pumping at Work

I thought pumping at work was going to be a breeze.  I was oh so naive.

When I left on maternity leave, I shared an office.  Here’s the thing about my agency.  We don’t have enough office space.  Everyone other than the Directors and select managers has to share an office – some have three to an office.  Which means we don’t have a spare room for pumping moms.  Our conference rooms are practically always booked for meetings.  I was worried at the time that I would have a problem getting my pumping on.

Luckily, I have great coworkers were offered up their private offices if I needed them.

Then, while on leave, I got a promotion.  A promotion that came with a coveted Director office!  Yay!

I thought all my troubles were solved.  I could pump in my office.

No such luck.

My first day back I went to hide in my office with my pump.

As I’m in there “ruh roo ruh roo ruh roo”ing, I hear a knock at my door.

I froze.  I thought ‘what the heck am I supposed to do??’  Do I say “yes?” Do I ignore it and pretend I’m not there (knowing full well the person on the other side can hear my “machine”)

The first time it happened, I was almost done, so I responded “just a minute.”  Finished up, and answered the door.

That afternoon, it happened AGAIN.  This time, I had just started, so I ignored it.   Which then led to my phone ringing, and me having a nice awkward phone conversation with a coworker who was probably WTFing my “ruh roo ruh roo ruh roo”ing.

Let me tell you, my office door is open 90% of the time.  But it never fails, the 2 10 minute intervals I close the door, I get visitors.

Today, as usual, I’m hiding out in my office, attached to my milker, when again, someone knocks at my door.

Me: “Who is it?”  (I only resorted to this response because I had a feeling I knew who it was, and she knew I was a pumper, and we’re close, so it’s cool)

J.A:  “It’s J.A.”

Me: “What’s up!”

J.A: “I just have a few things for you…(lists things)”

Me: “Okay, well I’m kind of attached to my machine right now…”

Uncontrollable laughter can be heard from the other side of the door.

Uncontrollable laughter continues, for at least 45 seconds longer than necessary (leading me to think that J.A finds way too much amusement out of my “situation” but she’s wonderful, and was one of those people that offered up her office, so I’ll forgive her for laughing at my misfortune of being stuck to my milker)

Me: “Just slide it all under the door!”

And this my friends, is why even having your own private office does not resort in successful, easy pumping sessions.   I’m seriously about two seconds away from making a sign for my door with a picture of a cow on it.

In truth, pumping at work isn’t that bad for me.  It’s awkward at times, like when I have to take my little bag with my milk in it to the fridge.  Or when I answer the phone because it’s a call I need to take, and I know they know what I’m doing.

But it’s cool – because –

I LOVE MY JOB (and I looove breastfeeding).  I know, I keep saying that.

Oh wait.  I don’t think I’ve said that before.  I mean, I’ve said I love being back at work…but let’s be perfectly crystal clear here.

I’m like way.no…like ridiculously fortunate to 1 – have a job in this horrible economy, 2 – have people that think so highly of me that resulted in 3 – me getting a crazy promotion to a job that I am so grateful and lucky and blessed and excited to have because 4 – I LOVE MY JOB…and I get to have my own office so that I can attempt to “ruh roo ruh roo ruh roo” in peace (even if it doesn’t ever happen.)


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