Autumn at Oak Hollow

It’s getting to be that time of year when things are picking up at work. Most people think that summers are relatively laid back when you work at a university, but that’s just not true unless you’re faculty and aren’t required to set foot on campus between the months of May and August. When I was an undergrad I told my faculty advisor once how much vacation time I received each year when I was working at the factory. He shuddered and said, “I couldn’t handle that.”

Anyway, since coming back to work I’ve been pumping the breast milk out so that Autumn can have something to eat at Carol’s house the next day. The office has been pretty cool about me leaving my desk three times a day, but still it’s a bit embarrassing when you have to pick up the phone and tell someone “I gotta go pump” because then you’re sure they’re imagining what you look like with your shirt hiked up and your boobs hanging out with the plastic cones attached and your nipples getting sucked in and out and in and out with the milk dripping into the bottles kind of like this:



So I’ve been toying with the notion of whether to wean Autumn at the sixth month mark. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, babies should be breast fed a minimum of six months. That was my goal at first. Make it to six months and then decide if I want to continue.

Another thing is I’m really, really beginning to despise the pump. I have a good one, a Medela Pump in Style that has pretty much paid for itself since I haven’t had to buy formula. I do have some on hand for emergencies, but thankfully it isn’t a staple. That shit’s expensive as hell.

One aspect of the whole pumping process is the extra baggage it adds to my morning commute. Every day I walk into the office, weighed down with the pump strapped to my back, my lunch bag in one hand and my mom-sized purse/diaper bag in the other, because you know I can’t go anywhere without an extra outfit, baby wipes, diapers and a burp cloth. So if you see me walking into the building in the morning, I look and feel a lot like this:



The only thing that keeps me going is Autumn. I just love the look on her face when she knows she’s going to get fed. In the beginning we had such a hard time perfecting her latch. I was always worried that she wasn’t opening her mouth wide enough, but now she sees the boob coming and opens wide. If I don’t get it to her fast enough she’ll cry out as if to say, “Get that thing over here NOW!”

You can tell she’s in heaven when the milk starts to flow. Her eyes roll up inside her head and she’s oblivious to everything else. If I don’t give her a burp cloth or blanket to grab while she’s nursing, she’ll grab at my skin and leave tiny little welts from her nails. Okay, so that part’s not so fun.

I guess now I’m more inclined to continue for another six months or whenever the girl is ready to stop, whichever comes first. All I know is that she’s not going to be one of those kids who drag mommy’s teat to kindergarten.