Thursday, March 13, 2008The Toddler Talks, I Laugh
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Me: Why are you licking your toes?
Toddler (while thrusting feet into my face): You want some?
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Toddler: I want to sleep with Dora.
(She was referring to sleeping in her bed that is currently oozing fluffy Dora goodness in the form of sheets, pillowcases, and blankets. Even though I know that, it still cracked me up.)
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Mommy (as we were driving through a thick cloud of Eau de Skunk): Alexis, do you smell the skunk?
Toddler: No, french fries.
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Alexis (at 4:00 am, after literally bumping into me in the hallway): I go to bed.
(I smell victory coming around the corner. If I can just get complete cooperation from all the troops to stand our ground, we'll be there soon.)
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Toddler (upon realizing that Mr. Husband was driving the truck in front of us as we were on our way to drop it off for repairs): Hi, Daddy!
Me: He can't hear you, honey.
Toddler (yelling): HI, DADDY! HEAR ME?
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Yup, She Was a Breastfed Baby--I Have the Mileage to Prove It
I don't usually participate in this sort of thing, but Sarcastic Mom encouraged peeps to share their breastfeeding stories today, and I thought it seemed like a good opportunity to throw a little something under a nice big bus. I've always been pretty quiet about my biggest challenge associated with breastfeeding because it seemed just so plain ridiculous. Well, that, and I didn't want to give any hints as to how I was managing to lay low.
Let's start at the beginning, shall we?
Right from the start, Alexis was a breastfed baby. I was home with her for essentially the first six months of her life, and while I wanted to use her head as a hockey puck a whole slew of times in those early days when latching felt like an alligator clamping down, we really didn't have any major problems. She never had a single drop of formula and I was able to build up a decent stockpile of frozen liquid gold. Then I started working. Along with that, of course, came the need to pump at least twice per day.
That topic was one that I had discussed with my future boss when I interviewed, so I wasn't really expecting to have any problems with it. I was very, VERY wrong in my expectations. At first, I was told that I could just use a vacant office for those two brief disappearing acts. But midway through my first week, I learned that the office was slated to get an occupant. My supervisor didn't have any ideas for alternatives, so I emailed the Human Resources Department. Nothing. So I emailed again, this time copying the HR Representatives supervisor. I got an answer quick, but it basically said, "Use a restroom or reserve a conference room. The end."
Now, I don't know about you, but I'm not game for making my own food in a bathroom, so I wasn't really game for making my kid's food in a bathroom. Besides the fact that it's a gross idea to me (I compare it to taking the Foreman grill in there and cooking up a hamburger--would you do it?), it was a logistical impossibility. The restroom housed two stalls, neither of which had an outlet. The only outlet happened to be right by the door. Silly me, I've never had aspirations of putting on a peep show complete with wondrous sound effects. So, the bathroom wasn't happening. The conference room idea was just plain dumb given that there is a major shortage of conference rooms in that particular building, so they are impossible to get. Oh, and there's the small manner of most of them having windows in the hall and none of them having working locks on the doors. Again with the discrete issue.
Maybe now would be a good time to mention that my former employer was a very large hospital system. As in, one of the twelve largest and one of the most profitable in the United States. There are over 45,000 employees, including over 4,000 physicians. Last year, that particular non-profit organization reported NET profits of well over $500 million. I worked in the Corporate Headquarters, just a few stories down from one of the best paid CEO's of a non-profit in the nation. Anybody else see a wee bit of a problem with the lack of appropriate accommodations?
Anyway, when it became clear that the Human Resources Department was full of useless idiots, I devised a plan. I would go down to my SUV twice a day, every day, and sit in the back seat and pump. It was an underground parking garage, so it was relatively dark and my tinted windows afforded for a small amount of privacy. Of course, I can tell you that at least four people saw things they probably wish they hadn't, but it was a livable option.
Then I was told I needed to move over to a different building. It made a fair amount of business sense, but the new building was a warehouse. With even less in the way of accommodations. And no parking garage. The only viable answer was still the car, but this time there was an outdoor lot complete with LOTS of traffic (for you Pittsburgh folks, it's on the South Side right between the FBI building and Carson Street--yeah, high traffic). Obviously, I couldn't just sit in the parking lot with my boobies hanging out and various machinery hooked up. So, I went cruising for options. I ended up finding a car wash where I could park my SUV in a stall and only have potential traffic on one side of me. So that's what I did, every day, twice a day, for months. Four months in fact.
The lack of accommodations severely hindered my ability to be efficient in my breaks, I was less productive at work, and I was constantly stressed. Trying to maintain a professional schedule and needing to drive ten minutes just to pump milk really put a strain on me. I skipped lunch to make up for the lost time, I pumped in the morning before leaving for work, I pumped in the evening after work, and I nearly always brought work home with me in a feeble attempt to balance it all. I can tell you that many important people at big giant hospital system were aware, and not a single one actually gave a crap. Not a one made any attempts to make some sort of accommodation. In fact, when Alexis was nine-months old, a high-level manager told me, "Isn't your daughter almost a year old? It's time for her to quit getting breast milk anyway."
Moron.
*smoke comes out of ears*
*deep breaths*
*more deep breaths*
OK. ANYHOO, Alexis and I made it to 13 months. She never once drank a single drop of formula, and overall, I'd say we had a very positive experience. Our only real challenge was making sure she had ample supply while I was at work. THAT was a significant struggle every.single.day. Looking back, I have no idea how we made it, other than to take it one day at a time. It sure wasn't with the help of one of the nation's leading health care systems.
