The "Mommy" room experience

Returning to work and figuring out the consistent pumping schedule is an adventure in an of itself but today I went to the next level. Generally after trying to balance my work and squeezing in time around the meetings to pump I am mentally spent, but today I found some humor in the situation. You see I usually pump downstairs in our basement conference room with no windows and a lock on the door, but today I travelled to the other building to use the OFFICIAL "Mommy room."

I went over early this morning to get a key from the nurse and although I felt like I was signing away my first born in exchange for the key I made it back in one piece. Then this afternoon in the bright warm sunshine, I trekked across the parking lot to the other building not knowing what to expect.

I worried I would have some sort of stage fright and not be able to successfully pump in a new place. I wondered if there would be any other women pumping at the same time. Little did I know the next 15 minutes would be so amusing to me.

It really is a shame that I can't type and pump at the same time. Really I can't do anything and pump at the same time but that's a different story, maybe not for this blog.  I hope I can retell it all as I lived it.

First I entered the room and there were a few "stalls" as I expected. Each about 4x5' in size (I'm a bad judge on this but that's my guesstimate) and featuring a table, chair, and electrical power bar. Each stall had "saloon" type doors. You know those swinging doors from bars in the old westerns. That was my first chuckle as I could picture tumbleweed blowing across the floor and hear the old time saloon music in my head.  I also immediately noticed there was no central clock. There was a clock on the microwave (yes there was a microwave and small refridgerator), but you can't see that from within the stalls so I was glad my MP3 player (means for hands free entertainment) also featured a clock.  (Side bar: the nurse was very specific when I checked out the key this morning that the microwave was not to be used for food but could be used to sanitize the equipment as needed. The fridge of course is for the milk which I thought was nice.) There was also a sink/washing station and a very good selection of reading materials (magazines and even a few books). It's like a luxurious break room but you aren't really on break. It TOTALLY made me want to explore the other corporately provided "mommy" rooms that my company offers. (There are 4 corporate buildings and I work in the only one without a room so I'd like to scope out the other three, well 2 now).

On a related note, one of the books sitting there was called "The Milk Memos" which peeked my interest enough to read the front cover before I left the room and further more google it to read the full description. I may have to read it sometime....

Anyways, I wasn't the only one in the room today. One lady came in shortly after I got started and soon she was underway as well. This is when I came to realize that just like babies, not all breast pumps sound the same. Interesting. I sat and listened to her pump drone away in comparison to mine. It was like a breast pump on crack I tell you, although it really sounded like a whippoorwhill so I guess it was a whippoorwhill on crack. A third lady also came in and further confirmed the lesson as her pump was more of a whooshing hum of sorts that is hard to describe in words but I can definitely recreate in sound. All of this in comparison to the crank of my pump which I sometimes think sounds like a... well I'll spare you all the full description.

Back to the whippoorwhill on crack... when she first came in I had thought about issuing a challenge. I work well in competition so I thought why not just see who can get the most and then pump like there is no tomorrow. However I am glad I kept my mouth shut becuase that lady would have totally kicked my arse. She pumped 5 minutes, stopped, pumped another 5 minutes, and was done. Hmm... either the milk just shoots out of her like beer from a keg or she didn't care to get much. I wonder if she stopped to switch sides and was only doing one side at a time or if she had to stop to switch bottles cause the first ones were full (then she really is my hero.. goodness). I wanted to peek out and see who it was and how big her "girls" were or just flat out ask over the wall how much she got in that time. After all I was hidden and she had no idea who I was and for that matter I don't even work in that building, but I refrained. Shocking huh? I guess I can apply a filter at times.

Finally there was one other thing I found odd or amusing during today's adventure. There was a sign on the table that said "Breastmilk is considered a potentially biohazardous material. Please dispose of any saturated materials in the proper red biohazard container." Okay, seriously? How many things are wrong with that? How in the world is breastmilk a potentially biohazardous material? and who in their right mind can SATURATE something with breastmilk while pumping (spills aside). That stuff is way too precious to even think about spilling a drop. Wonder if there was anything in that red can?? Yes I understand the need to wipe down the table before the next person as a courtesy and to clean the equipment and your hands at all times but biohazardous????

Okay, so I'm glad I can find some humor in the tedious task of pumping at work and I hope that you got at least one chuckle from my experience today too.