Today was my first day back to work after being on maternity leave for the last 9 weeks. Dropping my new baby off at daycare was the 2nd most traumatic thing that had already happened to me before 7:30am that morning. The most traumatic event was discovering I still needed to wear maternity clothes to work; nothing else fit. Added to that was the fact that most of the maternity clothes I had were actually borrowed from a good friend I work with. So, yes I'm showing up to work too fat to fit into anything and no, I can't give you back your clothes that I've had for almost a year, but you can still see them everyday......as I wear them around the office.
Driving to the daycare to drop my baby off, I was thinking, "Wow - it sure is hot already......I hope W is getting enough air back there.....well I guess he is; he's not making a sound so he must not be uncomfortable......OHMIGOD!.....WHAT IF I'M SO TIRED IN THE MORNING BECAUSE I'M STILL NOT GETTING ANY SLEEP AND I FORGET TO DROP HIM OFF AND JUST DRIVE TO WORK AND FORGET HE'S IN THERE AND SINCE I HAVE A VAN, I CAN'T JUST GLANCE IN THE BACK AND SEE THAT HE'S THERE AND THEN I GO ALL DAY AND HE DIES FROM HEATSTROKE?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.....you know just the typical stuff all new moms think about.
So, I finally made it to work and was able to quit crying for most of the drive there. And I was even able to make it to 8:30am before I called and checked on him. Work was work for the most part - only now instead of having to pee every hour and eat every two hours - like I was 9 weeks ago - I'm now getting up every three hours to pump.
That in itself is such a process in the workplace. For starters - the room where I can pump is not located right by my office and it is also an empty room that anyone can use. Therefore I cannot leave anything in it and so I must take luggage with me every 3 hours to this room. I also have to walk right by my supervisor and her boss and quite a few other people to get to this room. I might as well put a cow bell around my neck and moo all the way to the room; that's basically how inconspicuous I am every time I go there. It wouldn't matter though if no one saw me go to the room or not; they would still know what I'm doing in there. The walls are pretty much made out of thick, insulated...paper and my pump sounds like a snow blower, so there is no mistaking what Elsie is doing behind that door. And guess who's office is just on the other side of this room? My Director - my boss's boss. I know when I'm in there I can hear him talking on his phone - so I'm pretty sure he can hear me lactating. I can just picture him on the phone saying, "Hey - can I call you back; I can barely hear you over my coordinators boobs." Or worse - what if he goes home at night and his wife asks him how his day was and he says, "Oh....I have such a headache from all the noise; my coordinator must have put a new battery in the pump." The straw in that milkshake is that when I'm done, I have to take my pump parts to the bathroom to rinse them out. I always try to hurry and not be seen because I either get the uncomfortable, grossed-out look or the, "Oh, how sweet - she's sustaining life with her ta-tas" look.
I called the daycare one more time that day to check on W. He did fine at daycare; I was the who didn't handle the day very well.
Tomorrow's a new day.
I wrote my self a reminder on a post-it note to remember to check the back of the van when I get to work in the morning.
