The Nursling and the Pump

Ahhhhhh breast pumping. There really is nothing like it. Well, being milked by a farmer is probably pretty close. So often while sitting in my office attached to a vacuum, I find myself inundated with mental images of cows on a dairy farm. As attractive as it sounds, I promise you that it manages to feel even less so. I love that I have the flexibility in my work schedule to pump, however. I am very fortunate that I have the perfect environment. A private, comfortable room with a door that locks and the freedom to make my own schedule around when is best for me. I don't enjoy the financial benefits however, because in my line of work you only get paid for face to face time with clients and I don't own one of those cool desks like Lucy had to hide behind during sessions so I am stuck pumping for free. But I love the idea that even though I can't be home all day with my little love, he has the comfort of a familiar taste in his bottles while at GG's house. Plus I get to feel like I am doing something good for him, even though as a working mom I can't be right there with him all of the time as I would like.

Some pumping sessions drift by with textbook ease. Sit down, pump a few ounces while getting notes or a blog post done, then two more sessions with clients followed by another hour for pumping. I skip out of work with around 15 ounces of milk on ice for my little guy. Bada boom, bada bing. Then there are days like yesterday...

At my first pumping session of the day I hooked myself completely up to my machine, cups, bottles, hoses, cords, all of the bells and whistles. Then realized that I hadn't warmed my lunch yet. So, with a sigh I unhooked everything, got dressed, went out into the break room to heat my lunch, then came back. I got all hooked up again and started eating only to realize a half hour in that I had forgotten to turn my machine on... So I guess for that first half hour these funnels and hoses were pretty much just decorative.

The second session of the day went fine, until I went to unhook, slipped and spilled a good ounce of milk on my pants... The struggle is real. I literally wanted to cry over spilled milk.

Overall, that is a good analogy for breastfeeding in general. A wonderfully rewarding and beautiful experience, wrapped up in the cluster-f that is the actual practice. Prior to having a baby, I pictured breastfeeding as a very ethereal act. I have always held breastfeeding mamas in very high regard. They always looked so lovely and angelic with their little nurslings tucked safely in their arms. It is something that I always hoped to do.

Now, before I go any further let me just clarify that this in no way is meant to put down any woman who for any reason chooses not to or is unable to breastfeed. I was a formula baby (well, the crazy concoction that they called formula in the 80's) myself and I turned out just fine. I have grown up healthy and strong and I am extremely close to my mother. So please do not feel that I am in any way judging if you pull out a bottle of formula to feed your baby. I'll thank you to do the same when I pull my boob out to feed mine. As long as you are taking care of your babies and loving them like they deserve to be loved, then you are perfect in my book.

I was just always excited to breastfeed. It was something that I felt compelled to do. In all honesty though, I didn't really ever expect to actually be able to do so. With all of the trouble that I had getting pregnant in the first place and how my body didn't want to cooperate while I was actually having Archer, I kind of just assumed that breastfeeding would be a shit show too. But I really wanted to try. I read everything I could find on the subject and watched a lot of YouTube videos. I felt ready and well-informed, but I didn't know if it would be something that my body would finally do.

As it turned out, I was one of the lucky ones. My little guy was a fantastic eater from day one and while breastfeeding is difficult and very painful in the beginning for everyone, it really was an overall easy experience for me when compared to that of many others.

It's very funny how breastfeeding alters how you feel about your own body. At this point every member of my family has seen my boobs so often that no amount of therapy will ever clear their memories. My poor mother sees my boobs more often than she sees her own in a day and I am always amazed at how little I even care anymore. They are working boobs now. Move along people, nothing to see here. My poor husband doesn't even like boobs anymore. I've completely ruined them for him.

It's strange, you hear people complaining about women breastfeeding in public and hear people say that they are attention seeking and a number of other negative things, but the truth is, you sort of stop thinking of your breasts as breasts. You forget that these things ever even garnered attention. It's like they have a job to do and little else matters. It is far from the idea that I carried in my mind all of those years of the elegant mother, nursing her child surrounded by singing birds and flowers. It's more like juggling. But instead of balls or swords it is a 20 pound, 2 and a half foot muscle man who is grabbing and fighting both boobies at once. He is very easily distracted by every tiny sound he hears and the minute he tilts his head to look in the direction of the sound there is milk spraying everywhere. Not at all as beautiful as I had imagined.

Some days however, the weirdness is not even the baby's fault. In late September, on our way out to New Jersey for a family wedding I was very nervous. It was our first overnight trip with Archer, at that time about two and a half months old and the first time I would be breastfeeding around strangers.

Stopping for a snack, Jim ran inside the store to pick up lunch and Archer and I stayed in the car. We had parked away from the building to offer privacy for Archer's lunch. At this first stop, I managed to set off the car alarm from inside, something I did not even know was possible while feeding the baby. And with the keys being nestled comfortably in my husband's pocket, it was a significantly less inconspicuous feeding than I had hoped.

At the next stop, we tried again. My husband again ran into the restaurant to get our food, but this time he left the keys with me. As my little lovie ate, I looked up from his peaceful face to glance out through the car window. An ambulance had pulled in, and the drivers were talking a few feet from my window. Slightly irritated that they parked so close, I turned my attention back to the task at hand. The next time I looked up however, five more of the trucks had pulled up and parked. Significantly more confused now, I turned to look out the back window to make sure there wasn't some kind of emergency happening behind me but the restaurant appeared quiet. No news there.

Finally full, Archer's soft snoring caught my attention and I turned to focus on him, getting my shirt closed and putting the baby back in his car seat.

I looked up and there were no less than 12 ambulances parked all around my car. All of the drivers out, mingling around and I thought, “Geeze guys... I mean, I know a boob is a boob but really?!” Well, my husband has never met a person who was not a friend so of course as he walked up to the car, he started a conversation with a few of the drivers and it turned out they were not actually congregating from across the state to see my boob, but were actually meeting up to head to Philadelphia to be on hand for the Pope's visit. I was relieved and amused to say the least.

Breastfeeding is hard, often uncomfortable and strange in mixed company. But if I am being completely honest, nursing my son is absolutely one of the best experiences of my entire life. After a long day at work nothing makes me feel more bonded to this little person than being able to give him comfort in a way that no one else can. I love the health benefits for us both and the convenience that now, 6 months in I can finally truly enjoy.

My advice to anyone out there who is at the beginning of their breastfeeding adventure is to keep your sense of humor. It's tough to do at 3am when you can't get a good latch to save your life, your boobs are like enormous boulders about to explode and your nipples feel like they are on fire, but those times will come when you can and should laugh. A healthy sense of humor will come in handy many times over. And I promise you, it really does get easier (but never less funny.)