Pumpawumba

Last week I took my first business trip (and first overnight trip) without the little man :(. As worried as I was about Z being without his mommy overnight (he was fine), I was probably even more worried about the pumping situation - where would I pump, would I find time to pump enough, would I be able to store my milk, etc.?? So I took great precautions. I scheduled my flights so that I would not have to pump in a yucky airport restroom, I made sure my hotel had a microwave (for sanitizing parts) and a refrigerator for storing milk, I packed my hands-free nursing bra (hands-down the greatest pumping invention) and I even packed extra bags and bottles in case my cups decided to overfloweth on the days away (schyeah right...). I just tried to convince myself that at least I could maybe get a really good night sleep and I'd barely be gone a day and a half...

Of course, I forgot the #1 lesson I learned while we were trying to get pregnant -- you can't plan ANYTHING. So, as my [bad] luck would have it, a) both of my flights were delayed, necessitating airport pumping, b) the refrigerator in my hotel room was not working (and did I really want someone to come fix it at 1:00 am when I got to my room - alone - and having to wake up only 6 hours later - so much for that good night's sleep), and c) I forgot the battery adaptor to my pump - so now I would be limited to only pumping in places with a power outlet.

But in the words of one of my favorite movie heroines, "I once had to judge a tighty-whitey contest for Lambda Kappa Pi. Trust me, I can handle anything." If Elle Woods can get into Harvard Law, then I can salvage my pumping situation. And sometimes, because of our forgetfulness, it forces us to be more resourceful. Had I packed my battery pack, I probably would have relented to just pumping in an anonymous stall in the ladies room. However, sans battery pack, I needed to find a private place with an outlet at O'Hare. I tried sweet talking my way into the airline's club room but a) didn't feel like forking over $75 bucks and b) it was so late, the conference room floor was closed anyway. Wandering aimlessly around the airport I happened upon a family restroom... I took a peak inside and low and behold - there was a power outlet - Score! Ew. Gross. But, score! The good news was that the sink had a long counter, so I could sit on the counter (as opposed to a toilet without a lid) while pumping. And the other good news - Reagan Airport in DC also had a family restroom with a long counter top and a power outlet (and theirs was fancy schmancy with marble - dirty and unsanitary marble - but marble). Sure, I felt bad that I was preventing some family from using the special restroom for 20 minutes - but hey - desperate times call for desperate measures (at it was almost 10pm on a weeknight both nights - so how many families really travel at that time?). The other creative solution - I was so grossed out by pumping in an unsanitary place that on both trips I chucked my milk. Which was fine, b/c my refrigerator wasn't working anyway - and now I had just enough room in my cooler to bring back the other milk I pumped.

It makes me think of the words of that song by Chumbawumba. Yeah, that one that always gets stuck in your head (sorry)... "I get knocked down, but I get up again"... So the next time that you are alone with your pump in an airport restroom, know that you really aren't alone... you have sisters in solidarity (and being part of a familial group should qualify us for those family restrooms :).