I’ve completed my first “week” at work. I went back yesterday.
This afternoon, I worked from home – and that was my savior. Yesterday was rough. They tell me it gets better, but I don’t know that I want it to. I don’t know that I want to get used to missing my baby. Especially as he won’t stay a baby forever.
I’m also finding pumping at work to be a challenge so far.
Perhaps it’s pumping in an environment that…well, it doesn’t lend itself to relaxing with your breasts out. Even with the door locked and curtain over the window to the hallway. And yes, I realize how lucky I am to have a private office in which I can pump and not be relegated to the office bathroom.
But still. It’s not the same as sitting on the couch at home.
Perhaps it was the sweet smell of new plastic from the pump. Instead of the sweet smell of my new baby.
Perhaps it was the relentless shuck-shuck-shuck sound of the pump trying to extract my milk in vain. Instead of the strong and effective suck of a baby’s mouth and satisfying swallowing as he eats in enjoyment.
It’s hard to emotionally connect to a breastpump. You look down and it’s just not the same as seeing your baby’s face and the bliss of his emotional satisfaction as he connects with you, your smell and your milk, made especially for him.
And so every time I tried to pump, I cried. Because it wasn’t working. Because I missed my baby. Because none of it felt at all right or natural or normal.
Being at work felt surprisingly normal, like I could jump right back in and pick up where I left off in July. Although I can’t completely remember the way around my computer yet. But I kept expecting to see Duncan any minute. Like he was in my office waiting for me, or taking a nap somewhere, and our separation was only for a few minutes, not 9 hours.
Today was a lot better as I came home at lunch and spent the afternoon watching him trying to roll over as I worked. And I did work. I got stuff done. I just wish I could do that every day.