Today was my first day back at work. It was okay. I didn’t cry, but I’m not much of a crier. I’m the working-outside-the-home type. It’s good for me – I like the routine, the adult interaction, the use of my brain, and I do think a little separation from the fam is good for me. So returning to work is generally good. I’m a little numb this evening, but I’ll fall back into this just fine. Luckily I hand my baby off to Mr. Handsome, so a whole bunch of worries are alleviated right there. He works a couple nights a week and stays home during the day with the kiddos.
Two kids. It’s still kind of weird to say that I have two kids. Weird but nice.
So this morning I packed up my big-girl purse and my lunch and my pump bag and headed off to the office. Suddenly my “small and discrete” pump bag feels huge and covered in neon signs that read, “This lady uses her boobies to feed a person!” The thing is bigger than my purse (and I carry a big purse). But, I managed to lug it in and around the building.
All my breastfeeding books say you should check out your company’s lactation facilities before going on maternity leave so you know what to plan for and expect upon your return. Yeah… I totally didn’t do that. I work for a big enough company. I should be fine. I figured, even if they didn’t have a room, per se, I would figure something out. There are a couple spare windowless offices. There’s always the bathroom, if nothing else. I could buy one of those electrical outlet adapters for my car if I get really desperate.
Well, lucky for me, my company does have a lactation space and it isn’t too bad! I have to ask for the key from security every time I use it, and let me tell you that was pretty awkward the first time (“Um, hello, breast breast breast, can you help me, breast breast breast”). I’ll be seeing the security guard about three times a day so he and I are going to get to know each other pretty well this year. Score.
Anyway, the space is nice, private, clean, well-lit. The room has two high-walled cubes to pump in, each with a chair and table, there’s a little fridge and microwave (for storing milk and sterilizing pump parts, respectively) and even a private bathroom! The toilet doesn’t work but they only have it to fulfill some “running water” requirement for the space, so the security guard tells me. I had no idea there were requirements!
So I used the space three times and Baby2 has fresh milk for tomorrow. On Mondays we’re using my stash of frozen milk (I counted 350 ounces!) and on Fridays the milk will go in the freezer. I’d still like to donate some of my frozen stash, but for now I’m holding on to it.
All my co-workers were super sweet and accommodating, slowly bringing me up to speed as my brain adjusts to real-time use. Shoot, all I really did today was clear out emails and apply for new positions (within the company, I am overdue for a promotion) and my brain already hurts. Damn.
I’m not sure if Baby2 fared as well as me, though. I’ve talked about how she’s not a napper. Well, she really didn’t nap at all for poor Mr. Handsome. On my way home I started to wonder how he was getting ready for work this evening with a crying baby to deal with. I walk in to him flossing while holding Baby2 (he has one of those flosser tool things). Poor guy. Then I get home and Baby2 passed out at the boob. Go figure!
Anyway, enough of my fragmented, discombobulated ramblings. We survived the first day. We’ll take it day-by-day from here. And the paychecks and health insurance will continue.