As it got closer to my return date after having Rerun I contacted our HR department just to make sure the shower room was still available for me to use to pump.  I was informed that my company had given up their lease on the floor the shower room was on.  So no, it wasn’t available.  They told me they’d supply an office on a different floor, with a locking door, for me to use.  My first day back to work I went to HR to have them show me what office I could use.  They led me to an empty office.  All it had was a desk, chair and a phone.  I don’t know who it used to belong to and if anyone else uses it.  There are occupied offices on either side.  There is no sink to wash up and HR told me it probably wasn’t a good idea to leave my stuff in the room as it wouldn’t be very secure.

I’m not sure how everyone else feels about this, but I don’t especially like to pump.  The idea of it embarrasses me.  Logically I know there is nothing to be embarrassed about.  Logically I know I’m doing something very natural.  Logically I know what I’m doing is good for my sweet baby.  And yet, I get embarrassed twice a day when I pack up my gear and walk through 2 floors to get to the office I use to pump.  I’m convinced the people on the other side of the walls can hear my pump.  (It seems pretty loud.  Do all pumps make noise or is mine just cheap?)  Every time I hear foot steps outside I get nervous someone will open the door and I’ll have forgotten to lock it.  I would be horrified if someone, even a complete stranger, walked in on me pumping.

Horrified!

I think what upsets me most is that there isn’t a sink anywhere close for me to wash my pump parts (do they have a name?!) in between sessions.  I bring some bleach wipes with me and try wipe everything down (including the desk) every time.  I wonder if using the wipes is bad and silently wish there was a private sink for me to use.

A few weeks after starting back at work the boys and I met up with The King after work to hang out in the city.  At some point that evening I needed to feed Rerun.  The King said he knew there was a “Mothers Lounge” at his office so we decided to go to his office and I could feed Rerun there.

I’d been to The King’s place of business before so I knew it was nice.

“Nice” really isn’t the best word to use to describe this place and neither do any of the words my thesaurus gives for “nice”.  Maybe “super duper ultra hyper awesome” is a better adjective.

Seriously, the place is so awesome.  It’s like walking onto the set of a Star Trek movie (sans aliens and people in matching uniforms).  It makes my semi-decent office look like a shiz-hole in comparison.  It makes most places look like a shiz-hole in comparison.

The King pointed Rerun and I in the direction of the “Mother’s Lounge” and when I got there my heart skipped a beat.  It was beautiful.  There was a mini fridge, a sink, cupboards and four little rooms.  Each room had a door, leather chair with side table and a pretty picture on the wall.  There was even mood lighting.  And I’m pretty sure there were speakers to supply relaxing music.

Oh man, the crappy pump office at my work looks worse then a shiz-hole now.  It’s more like the dregs of a shiz-hole that is used by homeless people and drug addicts.

I got Rerun fed and even changed before heading back out.  I asked The King if he thought I would be able to just walk to his office and use that mothers lounge twice a day.  I was pretty sure I’d never be able to go back to what I’d been using at my work.

Naturally it isn’t possible for me to go to The King’s office twice a day.

But I want to.

Since that initial use of the Most Glorious and Heavenly Mothers Lounge in the History of the World* I’ve been able to go back and use it a few other times.  And each time I fall in love all over again.

Maybe I’ll bring something to hang on the wall in the office I use at my work.  Maybe that’ll help it suck less.

So tell me, where is the nicest Mothers Lounge you’ve ever seen?

*The downtown Seattle Nordstrom’s mothers lounge might be the Second Most Glorious and Heavenly Mothers Lounge in the History of the World

Oopsie.

To make up for it I’ll sprinkle this post with photos of our sweet (not so) little Rerun.

While I’d been working part time from home since Rerun was about 9 weeks old I officially started back, full time, in the office last Wednesday.  I got off the bus in downtown Seattle with my winter coat and gloves on and thought “It was summer the last time I did this.”  Besides the weather, not much had changed.

It’s been a while since I had Babboo and had to pump at work and I totally forgot how that even worked.  I mean, I know how to pump.  I just can’t seem to remember the process of taking my ice cooler to and from work everyday and trying to find the time to sneak away a few times a day to actually pump.

(The boys on Halloween.  This was Babboo’s second time holding Rerun.)

Plus, I’m totally embarrassed about it.  Logically I know there is nothing to be embarrassed about.  I’m 100% happy with my choice to pump at work.  I just don’t want to have to say the words “pump” or “breastmilk” to the guys I work with.  And to be honest, I’m not sure they’d even know what I meant if I were to say “excuse me while I go and pump.”  And then they’d ask me what I meant.  and then I’d have to explain it to them.  And use the dreaded words and give them a visual.

The first three days at work last week were uneventful.  The pumping went okay.  I kinda remembered how to do my actual job and Rerun did great with his new nanny.

**SIDE NOTE** I just spent the last hour reading through some of my archives from when Babboo was around the same age Rerun is now.  I didn’t remember most of the things I had blogged about.  Which made me so thankful that I have this blog.  I forwarded some of the posts to The King and he was all “you made me look like an idiot all the time”.

No I didn’t.

What an idiot for even thinking that.

(I took Rerun with me when I chaperoned a field trip with Babboo’s class.  He’s there.  I promise.)

/SIDE NOTE

So the first thee days at work were fine.  Work is just fine.  Really.  Leaving my adorable baby (and Babboo) isn’t fine.  Yet.  We’ll all get used to this and it will be “normal” soon enough.

This week was my first Monday back in the office.  Again, I was only planning on working three days since it’s a short week due to Thanksgiving.  It started snowing on Monday morning.  Babboo’s school called me to inform me that they were closing at 12:30 and we had to pick him up by then.  There was no way I could leave, so The King took one for the team and caught an early bus home to get both of the boys and work the rest of the day at our kitchen table.

(We took the kids to the Picasso exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum.)

I left work at 3:00, which is my usual time.  Because of the snow the bus driver had to go a different route.  We were moving along and all signs pointed to me getting home by 3:30.

AND THEN….

And then a message came over the loud speaker on the bus that we were being diverted again.

AND THEN….

And then I sat on the bus for the next FIVE AND A HALF HOURS.  Thankfully I had some M&M’s in my work bag.  What I didn’t have was my breast pump.  The first thing I did when I walked in my house was nurse Rerun with my hard as a rock b00bies.  Ouchie.

The schools have been closed since Monday.  Which means I’ve been home with the kids yesterday and today.  And then tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  We pretty much my first two weeks back at work have only amounted to four days in the office.

I can handle that.

So tell me, what’s the longest your commute has ever been?  Can you beat my five and a half hour one?

]]> http://www.holaisabel.com/2010/11/24/in-which-i-return-to-work-and-get-stuck-on-a-bus/feed/ 8 http://www.holaisabel.com/2010/10/19/in-which-i-feel-guilt/ http://www.holaisabel.com/2010/10/19/in-which-i-feel-guilt/#comments Tue, 19 Oct 2010 17:24:10 +0000 Isabel http://www.holaisabel.com/?p=3463 I remember this distinct feeling of guilt when I would lay Babboo down in his crib for the night.  I always felt like I hadn’t been able to spend enough time with him that day.  I would whisper to him, “I promise tomorrow will be different and I’ll hold you more” and then vow to be a better mom.  The next night I’d have the same feeling of guilt.  It would make my heart hurt to think that I had this beautiful baby that I wasn’t able to hold all day long.  I was afraid he wouldn’t know how much I loved and cherished him.  As he got older I got better at managing my time.  He also became mobile and could follow me around and be physically close to me while I cooked dinner and cleaned the house at night.  Eventually he got old enough to truly understand it when I told him, “I love you”.  The nightly feelings of guilt went away.  We’d hit our stride and it felt pretty good.  I forgot about that feeling of guilt.

Now when I while I put Rerun down in his crib, that same feeling of guilt manifests itself in a pain in my heart.  I have quickly remembered how horrible it fells to have to say “I promise tomorrow will be different and I’ll hold you more” to my precious baby.  Logically I can tell myself that this feeling will eventually go away, but it doesn’t make the pain stop today, right now.

I starting working part time, from home, last week.  Technically I’m still on maternity leave, but we figured that I might as well do what work I could do from home.  Might as well bring some money in now that my Short Term Disability has run out.  The tasks I’m doing are easy enough.  They only take up a few hours of my day.  Rerun can sit in his bouncy chair next to me while I work.  Even though it is as idealistic as can be, my stomach still turns every time I see my office calling on my caller ID.  My coworkers seem so happy to talk to me on the phone.  They’re ecstatic to have me back.  I remind them that I’m not technically back to work.  I’m simply helping them out by doing a few things from home.

My boss called me yesterday to request I come into the office every Monday morning for our weekly project meeting.  I told him I wouldn’t be coming into the office until my official start day (November 15th, BTW).  They are just so thrilled to have me around.  There is no way I’m leaving my baby with someone else so I can spend my Monday’s attending a meeting .  I’m still on maternity leave.

Like most working parents The King and I spent my pregnancy trying to determine the childcare option that would be the best for our family.  We weighted the pros and cons of quite a few different options before finally settling on hiring a nanny to watch Rerun in our home and keeping Babboo in his current preschool.  We found a nanny we all love and trust.  And while we feel confident about this decision, I still found myself looking into Rerun’s eyes last week and feeling my stomach turn at the thought of this other women being the one to hold Rerun all day.  She would be the one he looked up at while eating.  He’d feel her arms around him as he was rocked to sleep.

Yesterday morning, after the request that I attend the weekly meetings, I went into my bedroom and cried.  Like I do anytime I start to cry, I got control of myself and stopped the tears.  Again, logically, I knew the tears were pointless.  I have to go back to work.  End of story.  So instead of crying I decided to say a prayer and ask the Lord to help my heart be softened in regards to this issue.  The feelings didn’t go away as soon as I said “amen”.  And I’m still crying this morning.

But I’m not doing a very good job at squelching the tears today.

Can you blame me?

Last Wednesday I came into the office and sat down at my desk.  My back instantly informed me that that day would be my last day to wear high heels.

I feel like I’ve given up.

I woke up on Tuesday to a very large and uncomfortable body.  I felt like I had grown substantially overnight.  I reminded myself of when I was pregnant with Babboo and how hard that last little bit of pregnancy is.  And then I reminded myself…I AM NOT AT THE LAST LITTLE BIT.  I have ten more weeks of this.  It’s just going to get worse.

Ten more weeks and I feel like I’ve given up.

The last two evenings I’ve sat on the couch hemming all of my maternity slacks so that I can wear them with flats.  And I’m not talking about cute and sassy flats that make a girl feel feminine and stylish.

Oh no, I’m talking about shoes that have one purpose and one purpose only: comfort.

(Those are my exact shoes.  And they are not cute.)

I can’t deny the fact that my back doesn’t hurt as much as before.  I can’t deny that my feet aren’t as swollen.  I can’t deny the spring in my step as I walk up the stairs at work.

I can’t deny the sheer comfort.

I feel like I’ve given up. That I have been conquered.

(Let’s not even talk about the fact that I’ve worn my hair in a ponytail everyday for the last three months.  Seriously.)

But I can’t give up.  The vain girl in me won’t allow it.  And so everyday I apply make up.  I wear cute jewelry.  I smell good.  I keep my finger nails manicured, my toes painted and my legs shaved.  Heck, I’m still wearing about 90% of non maternity tops.  (In fact today I’m wearing an XS non maternity shirt.  For reals.)  (Yes, it’s very stretchy.  But dude, EXTRA SMALL.)  (Take that!)

Just like last time I’ve realized that coming into work everyday is truly a blessing.  Having to be in my office, ready to go, at seven means getting out of bed, taking a shower, and trying to look as presentable as I always have.  (Except you know, wearing FLATS!)

I have a friend that is pregnant also.  She’s quite a few months behind me.  She’s been sick.  Very, very sick.  “Can’t get out of bed or bother to brush her teeth” sick.  It’s been miserable for her.  She’s a SAHM.  She doesn’t have to get up every morning.  While I’m thankful I was never that sick, I’m also thankful that I have a place I have to go to everyday.  As lame as it sounds, I’m thankful to go to work everyday.  (I am also thankful that my cubicle is located near a bathroom.  Because hello, breech baby sitting right on top of my bladder!)

And on a whole other topic, The King’s been training the last few months to climb Mt. Rainier.  You know, Mt. Rainier which has a topographic prominence greater than that of K2.  The darn thing is tall.  Really tall.  And snowy.  And also an active volcano.  So while my body’s been adjusting to carrying a baby, his body has been training hard.  He’s even done an overnight initial hike of Mt. Rainier just to “check things out”.  (He said that due to the amount of snow he wasn’t really able to actually “check” anything out.  He couldn’t even see three feet in front of himself.)  (This does not sound like fun to me.)

What I’m saying is that The King’s intense training makes up for me wearing flats to work everyday.

He’s so awesome.  (And also maybe a little crazy?)

Man, I love the interweb.

I’m currently 22 weeks along (something like 5 ½ months).  Yes, we know it’s a boy.  And yes, we’re pretty thrilled about adding another precious boy to our family.

We bought our second car this last weekend.  I drove it for the first time on Saturday morning.  Its a few years old and isn’t the fanciest car on the market, but man, it’s fun to drive.

(For the record, I’ll only be driving the second car for an average of 6 miles a day.  Yep, we just needed it for 6 MILES A DAY.  It was very hard to justify a second car for that.  But we did.)

I probably forgot to mention it, but my parents were in town for a visit last week.  They got in on Tuesday and after having my mom trim my bangs, doing the grocery shopping and playing pirates in Babboo’s room I finally told them that I was pregnant.

So don’t feel too bad about not knowing until I was over half way through this pregnancy.  My own mom didn’t even know.  Naturally The King and I knew we wanted to put off telling people about this pregnancy.  As I’m sure you can imagine, we didn’t want to revisit what happened last year.  As the pregnancy progressed and we were able to relax a little we decided we’d eventually HAVE to tell people.  Sometime around 17 or 18 weeks my mom informed me they had bought plane tickets and were coming out.

We figured it would be more fun to tell them in person. So we vowed to hold off telling anyone until they got here.

That means I’ve spent the last little while hiding my ever expanding belly from EVERY SINGLE PERSON WE KNOW.  I wore scarves, jackets and billowy shirts any time I left the house.  I spent an entire week on a business trip to Louisiana and Arkansas with 3 (male) coworkers trying hard to not let them see all of my saltine cracker eating.

(On the plane ride out there I actually used one of those airsick bags during the flight.  I totally filled it up.  AT MY SEAT.  Thank heavens that none of my coworkers were sitting near me and that the guy sitting next to me was fast asleep.)

(While I was very appreciative to the airline company for providing me with a nice little bag to vomit it, I was disappointed in the fact that after I had vomited and sealed it off with the handy tabs, I DIDN”T KNOW THE CORRECT WAY TO DISPOSE OF IT!)

There was no way in heck that I was going to tell the douche bags I work with before my own parents knew.  NO WAY.  That means work found out this last Wednesday.  On Sunday I showed up to church wearing a maternity dress and looking the 20+ weeks that I’m pregnant.  Needless to say I shocked the entire congregation!

Thing is, all pregnancies have risks involved.  For whatever reasons my pregnancies have even more risks involved.  We’re not out of the woods yet.  I think The King and I would have kept the secret even longer if I could have hid it longer.

Oh how I wish I could be one of those sweet pregnant ladies who pees on a stick and then floats through her entire pregnancy without any pains or spotting or scares or weekly ultrasounds or daily Doppler use etc.

I wish.

My point to all of this?  Mostly it just feels really strange to go from doing everything you can to hide your pregnancy one week, to not being able to hide your pregnancy, even if you wanted to, the next week.

And I feel bad.  Like that I’m not giving Rerun all the attention I’ve given all my other pregnancies.  Not one single belly shot has been taken.  I’ve not scanned any of the million ultrasounds pictures I have of him.  I haven’t blogged about getting his room ready (we painted it a few weeks ago).  I haven’t even bought one single item of clothing to hang in his little closet.

Honesty, I’m not sure Rerun’s going to get that from me.  The fifth pregnancy makes a person a little jaded and a little more cautious.  It’s not his fault.