My job requires travel, not a ton, but I frequently board the airplane at the front of the line (meaning I have a lot of frequent flyer miles). I was hoping to not travel until K2 was at least 6 months old and I was no longer his sole source of food. It didn't quite work out that way.
Two weeks ago a meeting was scheduled that I felt I needed to go to. It couldn't be rescheduled and I am the company representative for this topic, so it really was my responsibility to go. It was only a one day meeting, so I thought, "I can do this. Right? I know my son is only 4 months, but it's just one day and with non-stop flights I'll be back with him in 30 hours. He'll be okay without me for just one night, right?". (Yes, I really talk to myself like this. More than I care to admit.) I contemplated flying in and out the same day, but I would have missed the first half of the meeting (no earlier flights). Plus a two day trip means I'll get to catch up on sleep without a tiny human wanting to be fed at 2am.
So the morning of my outbound flight I was suppose to have an early (8:30am) meeting at work. Great. Don't they know I've been coming it at 9:30 because I can't manage to nurse, pump, shower, get dressed, get the kids dressed, eat breakfast, nurse, and get the kids to daycare and preschool any earlier than 9am? No, they don't, they are men and it takes them 15 minutes to get ready in the morning.
I mange to get to the meeting at 8:45am ... which I think is a miracle. But when I get to the meeting location no one is there. "Great. Did they move to a conference room?" I would have called them, but I left my phone in the car in my rush to get to the meeting I was already late for. So I wander around looking at the closest 5 conference rooms. Nope, can't find my meeting. I finally write a note and leave it on the desk where the meeting was suppose to be. It says, "I came by, couldn't find you. -Kris". Notice I didn't mention I was 15 min late, why overburden them with details.
I then check my phone in the car. At 8:07am there was a message that they moved the meeting to 11:30am. Argh. So I went though a heroic effort to get here early for your ****** meeting and you moved it at the last minute? Okay, deep breath.
My flight leaves at 7pm, so I'm planning on leaving for the airport straight from work. Since I didn't have time to pack this morning I head back home to pack. No problem, I can do this. I finish packing clothes and pump one more time before packing up the breast pump and numerous accessories. And head back to my 11:30am meeting.
Everything goes well until I start to set up at work to pump at 3:30pm and realize I'm going to have to take the milk home before I leave for the airport or pour it out. I suppose I could have left it in the community fridge while I was out of town, but that seemed weird, so I opt to leave early and just go pump one last time at home.
I typically pump in my bedroom upstairs. So I go up the stairs and sit down only to realize I don't have a set of pump accessories upstairs. Oiy. Okay, down the stairs and back up with the accessories. Then I sit down to realize I packed my pump earlier and it's now in the car. Double Oiy. Okay, down the stairs and outside to get the pump bag. Now back up the stairs and finally sit down to pump. I blame sleep deprivation. I'm really very intelligent at work, but the juggling act I call a home life gets the better of me some days.
I finish pumping and head to the airport a little earlier than I normally would as it's rush hour traffic time and I want to be able to pump one more time before I get trapped on a plane for 2.5 hours. I travel a lot, so I know to tell the TSA agent that I have a breast pump in my bag BEFORE if goes though security. Otherwise they tend to think it's something scary and we all waste a bunch of time unloading, swiping, and reloading my pump bag.
I grab a sandwich to go for eating on the airplane later and head to the family restroom. My airport doesn't have a fancy nursing/pumping room. My pump is the hospital grade version that has to be plugged into the wall. I know some women use battery pumps, but my boobs just laugh at those and hold onto the milk in hopes that I explode.
Here's where the real fun begins ... in case you've been wondering why you were reading this long winded post. The family restroom is disgusting. I mean urine soaked paper towels on the floor, toilet not flushed disgusting. I turn around and head to the nearest airport personnel. "Do you have another family restroom? I need to pump and that one is disgusting. Perhaps in Terminal 1?" She doesn't think Terminal 1 has a family restroom and suggests I use the white courtesy phone to call and ask and also have them come clean the restroom. (It's apparently not her job to call to have the bathrooms cleaned.) I use the white phone and call the information desk (I always wondered who picked up the white phone calls). Information doesn't know if Terminal 1 has a family restroom. They are apparently located downstairs (before security) and are not allowed into the security area. What?!?! Seriously, you are information for the airport and you can't tell me ... oh never mind. "Can you have someone come clean this restroom?" She has apparently left a message for the cleaners, but doesn't know why she can't get a hold of them. She promises to leave another message.
Okay, I decided Terminal 1 isn't that far of a walk, so I'll just go down there and see if I can find another family restroom. On the way I find an airport map on the wall that shows the one and only family restroom is the dirty one. Great. I decided to see if one of the women's bathrooms has a plug near enough to a stall that I can stretch the pump cord into the stall. I go into the nearest women's restroom and low and behold there's a plug next to the sinks that just might be close enough to that first stall! Score! Problem solved! I balance my pump bag on my suitcase and the cord just barely reaches. I can't quite close the door all the way, but I wedge my bag up against it and get the pump bra on and all of the accessories and hit the power button. Nothing. No suction, no sweet relieve, no power. "Great, did someone unplug me? Thinking I was making a bomb in the bathroom? It is a little weird to have a power cord stretched from the bathroom sink to the stall (with the door slightly ajar). Now I'm all hooked up with cones and bottles hanging from my boobs, do I peek out of the stall without taking everything off and ask a kindly stranger to plug me back in?" No, I'm too much of a weenie for that. I unhook everything and pull my top back down. Go out to find the power cord is just slightly pulled out. Plug it back in, still no power. Plug it into the other plug, still no power. Deep breath.
I head back to the one family restroom now with boobs that are about to explode and worried that if I don't pump soon I'll miss my boarding time. "Maybe they've cleaned the bathroom by now?" Nope. Still disgusting. I just suck it up and turn my back on the worst parts of the mess and pump standing up. Yes, that is just as much fun as it sounds like. Gross. While I'm pumping the cleaners decide to show up and knock on the door every three minutes. Let me tell you how super helpful that is. If you've never pumped, you probably don't know how much of a mental game it is to relax enough to have a 'let-down'. I'm not very good at having let-downs, thus the industrial powered pump. I'm extra not good at having a let-down while standing in a disgusting bathroom in an airport with boarding time approaching and a janitor banging on the door.
Okay, now I'm done pumping and I can head to my flight. I sit down with about five minutes to boarding time just in time to hear that the flight has been delayed for 2 hours. TWO HOURS!
Deep breath. Lots of deeps breaths.
Crud. The flight was scheduled to land at 11:30pm already. Now I'll get to the hotel at what time? Great.
So I have to pump one more time before I get on the flight, but this time the bathroom has been cleaned. Small victories.
Side bar: Being a working mom much of my brain capacity and my time are dedicated to protecting my milk supply. I only mention this by way of explanation of why I'm talking about pumping so much.
When I get to the hotel I pump before I go to bed and finally get to sleep around 2:30am. And I thought I'd get more sleep tonight without the baby. HA!
The next morning I head to my meeting. By the way, in hind sight this meeting could have easily been accomplished via video conference instead of my having to travel with a 4 month old at home. Ugh. So while I'm at the meeting I have to find a place to pump twice during the day. We break early for lunch so I tell my co-workers that I'll pump and then meet them at the restaurant. I poke around looking for a spare office and find an empty cubical with a door. Great! Except the door doesn't really close all the way, it leaves about a 4-5 inch gap. Whatever, it's clean, it's climate controlled, and it doesn't smell. I go in and setup with my back to the gap and start pumping. A group of men starts chatting just outside the cubical wall about their weekend plans. In their defense, they couldn't have known I was trying to get in the pumping zone and couldn't concentrate with all their chatting, but it still took me much longer than average to get a let-down. I miss lunch, but at least I'm comfortable again.
The rest of the trip was thankfully less eventful. I did however leave my phone in the family bathroom of the return airport in my rush to get out of there and catch my flight. But I realized it pretty quickly and it was still there when I went back for it. Whew.
All of my boys were very happy to see me when I returned just in time to do tuck-in for K1. My husband is very supportive and I know it's not easy to manage two kids (especially with one being an infant). Things did go pretty well for him while I was away. I was really worried K2 wouldn't go to sleep without nursing, but he didn't have any problems.
As I type this, I'm pumping at my desk. Trying to get rid of the clogged duct I now have on my right boob. Ouch. The hospital grade pump ain't got nothin' of the suction power of a hungry baby. It's good to be back with my symbiote.
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Random Questions:
Do you say restroom or bathroom? Are they interchangeable?
Have you traveled without your infant? How did it go?
Do you think about pumping as much as I do? Or am I abnormal? (It's okay to be honest, I won't be offended.)
- Kris
