The joy of pumping at work
Don't be fooled. Pumping at work just blows. It is not one of those things that gets better with time. Its embarrassing to have to openly address physical needs in the office. It's a heads-down kind of activity. You hope to become invisible as you sneak off to a private spot for a few minutes.
While we have a plethora of wonderful euphemistic phrases for going to the bathroom (like, for example "going to the bathroom"), we have no clear euphemisms for pumping. No powdering of the nose, no visiting the ladies room, no quick dash to the restroom. When you must explain why you are about to disappear for 20 minutes, you must explicitly reference your actual activity, "I need to go pump now." I have tried to playfully substitute "do my thing" and "take care of business," but this tends to confuse people.
Once excuses are made, I collect my apparatus and its various parts, neatly stored in an innocuous backpack, and slink off to an unused office. Thankfully, this office is pretty much at my disposal whenever I need it. I have closed the blinds and taped paper over the window. Of course, this is the fun part- sitting in the office of a departed employee (his calendars still pinned to the walls, his folders still stacked on the desk) with my boobs hanging out, my nipples trapped in plastic cones. I got used to this at home, but I just don't think I can get used to being so exposed at the workplace. Just for fun, try it sometime! Find an empty office, close the door and take out some private part of your body. See how comfortable and relaxed you feel. Now, breast pumps are just not quiet. They are rhythmic and plenty loud to pass through the fiberboard walls separating this office from the next. I can hear their conversation, so they can certainly hear me.
Done! Now, carefully, very carefully, close the bottles (I can just imagine calling facilities to clean up a spilt bottle of breast milk), disassemble the pump, and slink off to wash up. The kitchen is nasty. I wash out the pump parts, trying to thoroughly clear out any milk droplets while keeping the parts away from the Top Ramen remnants in the drain. I hope that no one else comes in to use the kitchen - if they do, they get that embarrassed apologetic smile, "sorry, just handling an bodily function over here. I will get out of your way so that you can add water to your Cup o' Noodles in a sec."
Once the parts are clean and packed up, I take the little bottle of pumped milk - no more than 3, maybe 3 1/2 ounces - to the IT refrigerator. I store it in a paper bag from Bath and Body Works or BabyStyle, afraid that the sight of my breast milk might be icky to my coworkers, on par with a turd specimen or urine sample.
Whew! All done, at least until the next time - in about 2 1/2 hours.
While we have a plethora of wonderful euphemistic phrases for going to the bathroom (like, for example "going to the bathroom"), we have no clear euphemisms for pumping. No powdering of the nose, no visiting the ladies room, no quick dash to the restroom. When you must explain why you are about to disappear for 20 minutes, you must explicitly reference your actual activity, "I need to go pump now." I have tried to playfully substitute "do my thing" and "take care of business," but this tends to confuse people.
Once excuses are made, I collect my apparatus and its various parts, neatly stored in an innocuous backpack, and slink off to an unused office. Thankfully, this office is pretty much at my disposal whenever I need it. I have closed the blinds and taped paper over the window. Of course, this is the fun part- sitting in the office of a departed employee (his calendars still pinned to the walls, his folders still stacked on the desk) with my boobs hanging out, my nipples trapped in plastic cones. I got used to this at home, but I just don't think I can get used to being so exposed at the workplace. Just for fun, try it sometime! Find an empty office, close the door and take out some private part of your body. See how comfortable and relaxed you feel. Now, breast pumps are just not quiet. They are rhythmic and plenty loud to pass through the fiberboard walls separating this office from the next. I can hear their conversation, so they can certainly hear me.
Done! Now, carefully, very carefully, close the bottles (I can just imagine calling facilities to clean up a spilt bottle of breast milk), disassemble the pump, and slink off to wash up. The kitchen is nasty. I wash out the pump parts, trying to thoroughly clear out any milk droplets while keeping the parts away from the Top Ramen remnants in the drain. I hope that no one else comes in to use the kitchen - if they do, they get that embarrassed apologetic smile, "sorry, just handling an bodily function over here. I will get out of your way so that you can add water to your Cup o' Noodles in a sec."
Once the parts are clean and packed up, I take the little bottle of pumped milk - no more than 3, maybe 3 1/2 ounces - to the IT refrigerator. I store it in a paper bag from Bath and Body Works or BabyStyle, afraid that the sight of my breast milk might be icky to my coworkers, on par with a turd specimen or urine sample.
Whew! All done, at least until the next time - in about 2 1/2 hours.
posted by munchmom at 7:38 PM
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