The Pump Room

This post was originally posted on The Chicago New Moms Group blog. Thank you to Linda Szmulewitz for allowing us to re-post it! Share your pumping-at-work experiences in the “comments” section below!

Recently on the mother to mother Breastfeed, Chicago Facebook group, a mom vented a brief story of a negative interaction with a coworker that she had regarding her need to pump at work.  This story sparked a very strong memory for me of a time, now 6 years ago, when I too returned to work and was pumping so that I could continue to breastfeed my baby.  I wanted to share that story with all of you in hopes it might be helpful to others.

Whenever I think about new and veteran moms returning to work and pumping, I am immediately brought back to December 2005.  I was a new mom, returning to work after my 3 month maternity leave.  I was a social worker in an outpatient HIV clinic within a large hospital in New York City.  I was very fortunate in that my daughter was going to the day care that was part of the hospital across the street from my office.  This afforded me the opportunity to go over during my lunch and breastfeed her, thus eliminating one time a day when I had to pump and also one less bottle that someone would be giving her.  Like many new moms who have returned to work, I was no longer the same person I had been when I left to give birth just 3 months before.  I now had a new role in life, new priorities and my job no longer really ranked up there with the things that mattered most to me.  I knew that I was going to be moving in 6 months and had it set in my mind that I could handle pumping at work for that amount of time.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but with an end in sight, I thought, “how hard could it really be?”

At the time, I shared an office with two other coworkers, both female social workers.  One was, and continues to be a very close friend.  The other was a friend prior to me having a baby and even came to my home to visit me and my daughter while I was on maternity leave.  My actual cubicle was at the back of our office space, meaning that my coworkers did not have to walk past my office to get to their own.  On my first day back at work, both of my office mates were out.  It was great!  I did my job, saw my patients, put up my little curtain and pumped when I needed to.  In between I washed all my pump parts, and nursed my baby at lunch over at the daycare.  I felt empowered by my ability to work and also provide the most nutritious food for my baby. Sadly, when everyone returned, this all changed.

The coworker who I was very close with thought it was great that I was pumping at work.  She didn’t have children of her own but understood the purpose and the necessity of it.  The other one, we’ll call her Veronica (her name has been changed to protect the not so innocent), was another story entirely.  I told her that I would be pumping a couple of times a day in my office and that I would try to do it at a time that she wasn’t going to be seeing patients.  I asked that, if the actual door at the entrance to the office was closed, could she please knock before coming in?  She didn’t take this well at all.  She accused me of trying to control her and thus preventing her from doing her job.  She also told me she was not comfortable with hearing the pump from the other side of the cubicle wall.  I’m embarrassed to say that several screaming arguments took place between us which usually led to one of us storming off.  Suffice it to say, this did not make for a very relaxing environment to pump in.  In retrospect, I realize now that I was very hormonal, exhausted from being up at night with my newborn for the last three months, and in the midst of a major life change between having just become a mother and now transitioning into my role as a working mom.  I also naively assumed that all would be supportive of my choice to breastfeed.  Now when I think back on it, I realize that I did not have any other friends with babies, and I didn’t know anyone who had returned to work while pumping.  As time went on, I began to think about some of the things that had happened to Veronica that may have made her react how she did.  She was single and her slightly older sister had just had a baby a few months before I had.  Her sister had chosen not to breastfeed so the actual process of continuing a breastfeeding relationship while working was foreign to her.  That being said, she made no attempt to understand what it entailed or what I was going through.

The hostile climate in the office worsened, when a week or so after I returned to work, the New York City Transit Authority went on strike for 4 days, discontinuing bus and train service in all 5 boroughs.  Since I no longer had any sick time left (it was all used up during my maternity leave), I had no choice but to go to work, but that also meant figuring how how to get my infant daughter there as well.  Since many of the day care workers lived in the outer boroughs and it was taking them 2-3 hours to get home each night, one day they had to close the day care early.  Nothing was going on in our office (our patients couldn’t get to their appointments either) so I picked up my daughter early that day and brought her back to my office while I finished up for the day.  She quietly hung out in her car seat while I typed up some last few notes.  Next thing I knew, Veronica stormed into my cubicle screaming at me for once again assuming that the way I was choosing to use our shared space was okay with everyone else.  Suffice it to say, when I finally made it home that night, I cried for quite some time from all the stress this was causing.  I was totally baffled by her strong negative reaction to me and my baby.

My supervisor at the time tried to be as supportive as he could.  He was in a tough place because he was both mine and Veronica’s supervisor and although he knew that she was being unreasonable, he didn’t really know how to handle the situation.  As far as Veronica was concerned, I could use one of the exam rooms that were constantly in use for patient care and would never have provided any privacy.  The hospital knew that they were required to provide me a non bathroom space to pump in (although I did end up pumping in the bathroom at least once), but their solution was for me to make a 20 minute trek over to the NICU pumping room each time I needed to pump.  This would not have allowed me to do my job.  In the end, I was lucky enough to be able to move into a former supervisor’s private office where I could both work and pump for the remainder of my time at work.  Veronica and I never spoke again and the entire practice was divided among whose “side” they were on as a result of the entire situation.

In retrospect, I probably should have approached the situation differently.  Maybe I didn’t take into account how she would feel about it.  Honestly, at the time, I wasn’t really concerned with anyone else other than my baby and how I was going to provide food for her while being away from her for most of the day.  I certainly let my emotions get the best of me and probably seemed like this crazy breastfeeding woman to her, but I didn’t care.  I guess I still don’t.  I know that everyone has their own issues and some people, for whatever reason, are not entirely comfortable with breastfeeding.  As a nursing mom, pumping in order to feed my baby was a logical and natural choice for me.  However, for someone who had had very little exposure to breastfeeding, my decision must have made her feel awkward, uncomfortable, and imposed upon.

If you are returning to work and will be continuing to pump, my advice to you would be to seriously think about the environment you will be returning to and how you can make your very difficult job of pumping at work as easy as possible. In Illinois, your employer is required by law to provide you with a “non bathroom” space in which to pump.  Currently, 24 states have laws related to breastfeeding in the workplace.  Talk to your coworkers.  If they are a group of single 20 and 30 year olds who have not had any experience with breastfeeding moms, be prepared to educate them on all the hard work that moms do to provide the best food for their babies and share some of all the excellent benefits of breastfeeding (like how your baby will be healthier, resulting in you not taking days off to care for a sick child). You may even make a difference in their decision to someday choose to breastfeed their own baby.

For a long time after this experience, I had this fantasy of sending Veronica a letter detailing to her how she had made my life a living hell for that six months.  I would have told her that I hoped that someday she would be lucky enough to find someone that would make her happy and they would be lucky enough to have a baby together. I hoped that when she became a mother and experienced it as the total life change that it is, that she finally would understand why the way she treated me was so wrong, so hurtful, and so traumatizing.  I guess this blog post is that letter.

Linda Szmulewitz is a mom of two, a licensed clinical social worker, a postpartum doula, and the founder of The Chicago New Moms Group. She can be found blogging about all things related to being a parent at www.chicagonewmomsgroupblog.com.  For more information about The Chicago New Moms Group, please visit the website.

Why Breastfeeding is a Feminist Issue

Obviously, we don’t know anything about the motives of the individuals who first developed infant formula. Perhaps their only goal was to provide an alternative food source for infants of women who, for whatever reason, could not breastfeed themselves and did not have access to a wet nurse. I would like to believe this option rather than the other possibility, which is a bit too heavy on the mustache-twirling chicanery for my tastes.

Be that as it may. What we do know is that the marketing of infant formula is driven by capitalism, an economic system that works only so long as you are able to convince people that they need things they didn’t even know they wanted (obvious examples of this principle are Silly Bands as well as the expansion of formula marketing to poor communities in non-industrialized countries, for whom breastfeeding is not only the more salubrious, but also the only affordable and safe choice. And don’t even get me started on toddler formula). So, with the advent of infant formula, it was in the manufacturers’ best interest to create as big a market for formula as possible.

And here is where the feminist bit comes in. This market was created through the deliberate harnessing of systems of oppression and power at the cost of women’s self-determination and their children’s health. Initially, commercial formula was considered the province of physicians and thus, until the latter part of the last century, physicians were the ones who were in effect “selling” this product to women, who make up a disenfranchised group that has traditionally been left with only two areas of self-determination: childbirth and the feeding of children. The obvious message that this sends is that the physician knows better than the mother what to feed the child. Considering the power differential inherent in a doctor-patient relationship, it is no wonder that most mothers did not think to question whether the physician’s opinion was influenced by hard science or by…dare I say it…the fashionable glint of prescribing something that seemed modern and cutting-edge. And so, control over that most basic of mothering functions – feeding one’s child – was wrested from mothers, who went from having agency in the feeding of their children (if no longer their birthing) to being passive bystanders who were marketed to – who didn’t do, but were done to. (This is even more so the case for women living in poverty – consider that roughly half of infant formula is supplied through WIC in the U.S.).

Simultaneously, formula feeding began to be touted as the “modern” and “normal” way of feeding a child. And if formula feeding is “normal” and “modern,” what does that make breastfeeding? Archaic. Abnormal. Vaguely dirty, perhaps.

And the “vaguely dirty” and “abnormal” part brings me to the second reason why breastfeeding is a feminist issue: the way in which breastfeeding is perceived in our culture. There is the obvious point that comes up whenever a mother gets kicked out of a restaurant for nursing in public, and some cranky bystander giving a sound bite for the local news opines that nobody should ever breastfeed in public because some hapless male teenager, having seen a glimpse of nipple, might be incited to go on a serial rape rampage that ends in a police shootout three states over (I am exaggerating a smidgen. But only a smidgen.). So the obvious point, obviously, is that those sorts of comments say a lot about our collective cultural anxiety when it comes to female sexuality – this idea that all of the oppression that has been heaped on women for the past few millennia has been justified because there is something dangerous about the female condition, and if you don’t watch out, the vagina dentata that you’ve been objectifying for the last two thousand and odd years might rear up and bite you in the…well. Again, that is the obvious point. What is perhaps less obvious are the two logical consequences of our collective cultural conceptualization of breastfeeding.

First, think of breastfeeding in the public realm. Why is it that, in this day and age, people get so squeeged out by a nursing mother? Why is it that the general public repeatedly sends the message that a behavior that is uniquely and exclusively feminine does not belong out in places where people engage in socializing, politicking, trading, working (i.e., all of the traditionally male-dominated moving and shaking in a community) but should rather be relegated to the home and hearth? That certainly looks like gender stereotyping…smells like gender role stereotyping…wait a minute, does this imply that women can act like women, but only at home? Some pretty interesting research certainly suggests that this is the case. For example, a 2004 (Acker) study suggests that benevolent sexism (i.e., having positive attitudes toward women as long as women conform to gender stereotypes) is related to negative attitudes toward nursing in public.

Second, think of breastfeeding in the professional realm (here’s where we get into institutionalized discrimination. Good stuff.) Institutionalized discrimination refers to the unequal treatment of a particular group due to values, rules, or “ways of doing things” that are so embedded within a particular system or organization that they have become all but invisible. (On a side note: one example of this is what is researched in a scientific community, and how the resultant knowledge is disseminated. I think it is pretty interesting that the published research on attitudes toward breastfeeding – and the possible link to sexism (see the preceding paragraph) – is so compelling, yet so sparse. But I digress.) Another example of institutionalized discrimination is how “professional” behavior is defined within corporate culture. This definition obviously includes a dress code, certain kinds of communication style (communication styles that are typically associated with women or racial minority groups are not, for example, viewed as professional), etc. etc. Most relevant here, however, is the expected separation between work and family life – in which a professional is expected to be 100% present at work while at work, and to prevent family life from impinging upon their professional activities. Which raises the question: how can you be a “good mom” (who successfully carries the big old bag ‘o guilt that comes along with that moniker) and a good employee? We all know that implicit in the specter of the “good mom” is that she be “able” to establish a successful breastfeeding relationship. But if leaving a board meeting early to attend your five-year-old’s t-ball game strains the rules of “professional” conduct, then nursing your five-month-old at that same board meeting would blow them straight to hell. And taking a twenty-minute pump break every three hours isn’t exactly the behavioral equivalent of a black power suit.

And thus, as a culture, we are talking out of both sides of our mouths. We send a strong implicit message that all good mothers must try to breastfeed, but have simultaneously created a pervasive cultural myth that paints breastfeeding as something that is good to try but pretty much impossible to “succeed at,” especially if you are not able to stay home with your child.

And that message is getting through to mothers loud and clear: Research shows that the percentage of women who are biologically unable to produce a sufficient amount of milk to feed their child hovers somewhere around 3%. Yet fewer than 40% of babies are exclusively breastfed at 2 months, and fewer than 12% of babies are breastfed exclusively for the first 6 months. Of course, there are plenty of moms who end up formula-feeding because their baby has trouble nursing, or because they were separated from their baby at birth and it was too hard to make up for that critical first half hour, or because they have some sort of medical condition, or because their life constraints make it difficult to be the only person responsible for feeding their child, or who were knocked over by PPD and couldn’t handle also having to worry about figuring out how to breastfeed, or who choose to bottle-feed because that is what they want to do, which is their decision, and that is totally okay with me (not that any mom should give a rat’s ass what I think about how she feeds her kid). But far more than 3% of moms report that they are formula-feeding (or supplementing) not because they want to, but because they are not producing enough milk for their baby. And it is those moms that I am concerned with – those moms from whom society took the basic choice of how to feed their children. How did these moms, many of whom were excited to start breastfeeding and determined to make it work, end up concluding that their bodies were letting them down when, for their vast majority, this could not statistically be the case?

Consider this: the one thing that definitively, unequivocally stops milk letdown in its tracks is stress and anxiety.  And what is more likely to cause stress and anxiety than attempting to exclusively nurse a baby when you are living in a culture where articles in parenting magazines talk about the difficulties of breastfeeding, where you rarely (if ever) see other women nursing, where your mom asks why you aren’t formula feeding, where your mailbox is flooded with formula coupons from the moment you make your first OB appointment, where – if you are a woman of color, or have a non-heteronormative look, or you have a disability, or you’re heavy – there are few (if any) images in the media of nursing women who look like you, where your child’s pediatrician suggests supplementation as a solution for “problems” that really aren’t (e.g., a two-month-old who cries a lot, a five-month-old who doesn’t yet sleep through the night)?

So finally, we arrive at victim-blaming (could any article about women in society be complete without it?). Because collectively, as a society, we are really stacking the deck against successful breastfeeding relationships. But when we talk about a mother who wanted to nurse her child but was not able to do so, we don’t ever say that society let her down. We say that her body must have let her down, or that she didn’t “want” it enough – a defective body or a defective mothering instinct. This, of course, conveniently deflects attention from the ways in which society lets down nursing mothers – and thus permits us, as a society, to continue to refuse to take responsibility for what has been described as an international health crisis, while heaping blame on mothers.

So here’s your chance, people. Breastfeeding is about feminism. And feminism is about empowerment, about making choices, about being cognizant of where society’s messages are coming from, and about being thoughtful about which of those messages you choose to accept or play along with. So you can make a stand for feminism today.  You can do it by boycotting Nestle, by organizing a nurse-in, by writing a letter to the editor of some parenting magazine that runs articles on breastfeeding next to a Similac ad, or by saying something nice to a breastfeeding mom in a restaurant (research shows that women who nurse in public are met with fewer looks and gestures of approval than are women who bottle-feed in public). You can do it by asking your employer what her policy is for supporting nursing mothers. You can do it by teaching your kids that nursing is the normal way of feeding an infant. You can do it by listening compassionately and nonjudgmentally to a friend who wasn’t able to nurse, and by respecting the decision of a friend who chose not to nurse. When my baby wakes up from her nap, I am going to do it by nourishing her from my breasts. How is that for multitasking – feeding a baby while checking facebook and sticking it to the man.

Mirjam Quinn lives in Chicago. She loves her husband, her kids, books, yoga, ice cream, her job, and a good argument.

Going Back to Work

Going back to work and continuing to breastfeed is not easy.  Especially when your little one is extra little – and you know everyone around you suspects she’s not getting enough.  All of a sudden you can be measured and judged.

Even with an unbelievably flexible boss, an amazingly supportive husband and – shall we say – an above-average sense of self-confidence, I still find it challenging.

Challenging, but not impossible.  And incredibly rewarding at the same time.  There is no better feeling than coming home from work and nursing your baby to sleep.  You feel the stress of the day melt away as you snuggle down, stroke that soft, furry head and hold on to those sweet little fingers.

So be prepared, be persistent and go for it!

Here are my top tips for breastfeeding moms going back to work.

• Educate yourself!  There’s a lot of mis-information out there.  Get your information from a trusted source.  Read kellymom.com.  Consult your trusted lactation consultant or doula.  Attend La Leche League meetings.   Here’s the thing – just because someone is certified  (doctor, nurse, even lactation consultant) doesn’t mean she is informed and certainly doesn’t mean he knows what’s best for your baby.  Be your own advocate.  Arm yourself with information and know what you are prepared to do.

• Work towards a routine!  Read the books (yes – even that one), ask around, figure out what works for your baby and start pretending you’re there.  Olivia resisted a schedule for a long time.  Now when people say “you’re so lucky” when I tell them Olivia is in bed by six, I have to laugh.  It was – and still is – so much work.  And it’s far from perfect.  But it’s so much easier to leave your baby when you can give clear directions about when and how she should be eating and napping.  Plus, the predictability makes it much easier for you to plan.  Start at least a month before you plan to go back to work.  I actually delayed going back to work a month because we weren’t there yet.  Which brings us to our next tip…

• Go with your gut!  You need to be 100% comfortable with your baby care arrangements before going back.  What was your gut reaction when you first stepped into the daycare or met your nanny?  Do you have a nagging suspicion that your Great Aunt Mildred won’t stick to your plan?  When I first stepped into Olivia’s daycare I immediately felt calm and reassured in a way I hadn’t with other places we visited.  Speaking to the other moms was the icing on the cake.  Without that trust you will drive yourself crazy.

• Start slow!  I started the Tuesday after Memorial Day and am taking Wednesdays off.  Which means that first week I worked three days.  Believe me it was plenty.  Give yourself a chance to get used to things.

• Love your job! It’s really hard to tear yourself away from your baby. If you’re not doing something you find so captivating that time flies by or if you’re not getting paid for your talent – consider a new line of work.

• Don’t listen to those people!  Those people who say “I have so much milk in my freezer I’m running out of room.”  Those online reviews that boast “I filled 2 six ounce bottles in 10 minutes with this pump.”  Even those people that say “I had to give up because I could only get 2 ounces from each side.”  That last one killed me – I was thrilled to be getting four ounces.  Do not compare yourself to other people – they are not in your situation and their baby is not your baby.  Pay attention to your baby- and only your baby- to figure out how it’s going.
  

  Baby’s first sushi

• Find support! You may not be able to go to that Monday morning Mommy and Me Yoga class anymore – but maybe you can organize a lunch with other nursing moms in your office once a month?  Or call your childhood friend who’s now the world’s most awesome post-partum doula?  How about joining Breastfeed Chicago! on Facebook?  Find like-minded people and hear what they have to say!

• Set a goal!  Then another.  Take it one step at a time.  Maybe you’re trying to get to six months.  Maybe you just want to get through the week.  Set your sights high.

• Be organized!  I may or may not have prepared four pages of instructions for Olivia’s day care.  Being organized gives me a sense of control.  It also helps me operate on auto-pilot in the mornings – and maybe have a little extra time to play with Olivia before dropping her off.  Make a checklist.  Every night I try to idiot-proof my morning routine – packing my breakfast and lunch, laying out my clothes, rounding up my pump and bottles, putting everything but the milk in Olivia’s bag.  I still make mistakes.  Yesterday I was in the subway with the doors about to close when I realized I left my milk in the fridge at work and had to run back, just barely making Olivia’s bedtime.  To avoid that I may keep my milk in a cooler bag with ice packs right in my bag.  I certainly don’t need one more thing to try to remember.

• Experiment!  Pumping is tough.  Really tough.  The first day I raced home to find out Olivia drank exactly what I pumped – to the quarter ounce.  That never happened again.  I’m routinely an ounce or two short and have to make it up by pumping at night and on the weekends.  I compare pumping to having sex with an inflatable doll – it’s just not the same.  So I have a variety of equipment (hand pump, single electric, soft and hard shields) and experiment with different techniques (going back to let-down mode when the flow stops, yoga breathing, massaging).  Here’s the most important thing I have to say:  the amount of milk you pump is not a measure of your milk supply.  It’s not.

• Ask for what you want!  You’d be surprised how often you get it.  I was planning to pump in my office until I talked to a colleague (a former nursing mom) who said “absolutely not!” (the door doesn’t lock, people can hear you and know what you’re doing) and told me about the nursing room downstairs.  I now have time blocked off on my calendar that I’ve only had to move twice.  Know the law and be vocal if needed.

• Hydrate! Drink when you’re thirsty – no more, no less! Some women get really thirsty when they nurse or pump, so have a water bottle handy.

• Be forgiving!  You are working twice as hard as everyone else.  Give yourself a break and focus on what’s important.
  

• Be where you are!  When you’re working, work.  When you’re pumping, pump.  When you’re with your baby, be with your baby.

• Celebrate your achievements!  You’ve earned it.

Danit Lewin Schleman lives in Wicker Park and is a first-time mom to five-month-old Olivia.  She works as a Management Consultant and enjoys cooking and yoga in her (limited) spare time.