The Bitch Is Back

It has been a while since I last blogged. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to but because the gig that takes a year to prepare for just happened and I’m barely alive to tell the tale. I will begin this newest entry by highlighting my breast pump tour of duty during the conference.

Breast Pump As Camera Case

In an effort to maintain baby’s breastmilk supply, I pumped all over my fair city for 10 straight days and it was freakin’ HARD, people (but the absolute hardest part was spending three of those consecutive days away from baby). In the convention center where we toiled under buzzing fluorescents and scarfed down icy, rock hard pastries, I claimed the handicap toilet down the hall from where I was stationed as my own personal loo. I would sling the udder contraption housed in a suspicious black bag over my arm and race off at mentally scheduled times in an effort to keep my day in some kind of order. God forbid the loo was ever occupied and if it was, you better exit in a wheelchair or without limbs! Never ever was there a disabled person using the room and instead I had to wait with steam coming out of my ears and my boobs on the brink of super duper sprinkler setting while convention center staffers strolled out all coiffed and perfumed. That really got in my crawl! I could hear their walkie talkies buzzing with conversation as I banged on the door with a ferocity that almost dented it. I would sneer as they sheepishly exited probably thinking their supervisor had sniffed them out. I would lock the door and set up shop while the hissing of the machine calmed my nerves. I would store loads of hooch on icepacks and deliver them home late at night. At a certain point, we were required to stay in a designated hotel so I would leave milk at the front desk to be retrieved by daddy. Among the many parties I coordinated for the conference, I found myself pumping in slimy club bathrooms, client’s offices, a catering van, and my truck. I also hiked far and wide to said convention center and utilized MY handicap loo often walking at a pace that trimmed my weight by four pounds. When I think about the feat in retrospect, I am certain that I would have weaned baby weeks prior to keep from having to do the deed during such a stressful time and in so many public locales. I am glad though, as I cradle the little guy in my arms as he noshes and cracks that side grin in mid-swallow, that I stuck it out.