I make milk. What’s your super power?

Years ago while using a one room, no stalls restroom at a client site – I observed that it contained an extra, loose chair.  Just sitting in there.  So that’s:  sink, stool … and extra chair.  I tend to prefer order and reason in my world, and I was completely baffled, and somewhat disturbed, by the what the purpose of this piece of furniture in that environment could possibly be?  Little did I know I had just had my first glimpse into the self sacrificing realm that is the Nursing Mommy!

Fast forward a few years, and it was me who was headed to a similarly degrading, smallish room for the task.  Now that I have the La Leche League proponents all up in arms for my use of the term “degrading” – please don’t misunderstand me.  Allow me to at least defend myself by saying that I nursed my first child until age 2, and am currently nursing my second child who is 15 months.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  It is an experience that I cherish.  

So there I was at the banking call center, bearing my chest mid work day to hook myself up to a machine and be milked.  How can you NOT feel like a commercial dairy cow, under such circumstances?  Fortunately, I was such a prude, and the situation was so over the top for me, that I found it down right comical.  Talk about a labor of love!  

The best part was the 200 or so employees, working the phones and sitting in waist high cubicles, whom I would walk by each day at the same time with my little black bag of gear over my shoulder.  These were not direct coworkers of mine – I came from a different area in the building.  So no casual conversations of explanation in the break room were taking place.  There she goes again, every day at 11:30.  Disappears in that little room in the corner, and shuts the door.  Then there’s 25 minutes of that loud, whiny sound, “Weeehhhhh, waaaaaah.  Weeeeehhhh, waaaaah.  Weeeehhhh, waaaaah”.  

That’s right, folks.  My sister in law was gracious enough to give me an extra, new pump that she had on hand when I had my first baby.  And it was the noisiest breast pump on the face of the earth.  (See earlier “so over the top it was comical” comment…)

I can only assume, as I had absolutely NO CLUE what that chair in the client’s bathroom was years earlier – that my sea of cubicle, primarily singles in their 20’s type audience was equally puzzled by my behavior.  

Whether you have been a nursing mom, or not, at some point in your life – this is just one of oh, so many areas where we as parents give so extensively of ourselves.  So this is an Ode To Us – the Parent Givers!   My kids are worth every exhausting, embarrassing minute of it.  I’m sure yours are, too.