Ms. Medela, her entourage, and that terrible green bag…
Dear Ms. Medela,
Today, April 16th, 2018, is the first day we have not been connected since almost exactly a year ago. I thought the day I put you away would be a momentous one, and that I would celebrate my new found freedom. However, I barely noticed your absence. In fact, I did not know that Friday would be our last day together. Had I known, I would have rejoiced during our final work-day session; because, Ms. Medela breast pump, I WILL NOT miss you!
Don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly grateful that you and I were able to work together to feed my small human for so long; but, that precious liquid gold came at a price. A price, I will not miss paying. In addition to the small fortune I spent on that (oh, so attractive) hands-free bra with holes in just the right places, the spare parts, travel battery packs, a car adapter, etc., the biggest price I paid was with my time. Time spent, prepping, pumping, and washing parts. Time spent scheduling our sessions around phone calls at work for fear someone would hear you (Although, my co-workers can attest that I eventually got over that fear, and had no problem letting you contribute to many a conference call. You’re a true professional, Ms. Medala.). Time spent hidden at social functions so I could “place the order” and have a few hours of comfort. Time spent leaving early for work road trips so I had time to connect and disconnect you along the way. No, Ms. Medela, I will not miss our alone time.
I won’t miss our meeting spots. Whether it be my desk, the dining room table, or the driver’s seat – I could find you wherever I went. You were always there Ms. Medela – in airports, restaurant bathroom stalls, the judge’s library while on jury duty, and a port-a-potty at the start-line of the NYC Marathon. No, Ms. Medela, I won’t miss our meeting spots.
Nope, these 50,000+ runners won’t mind if I takeover this porta-potty for 20 minutes.
I also won’t miss the tired green bag I carried you in each and every day to work. The bag that everyone assumes is a gym bag. Of course, I just let them believe that the contents are my running shoes instead of the object that, other than my son, runs almost every other aspect of my life. No, Ms. Medela, I won’t miss your green bag.
Perhaps, even more than the tired green bag, I won’t miss your entourage. Let’s see – you run with tubes, shields, membranes, valves, bottles, bottle caps, special bra, ice pack, cooler, and sometimes plastic storage bags. (Forget one member of the entourage and watch Mama turn into MacGyver!) While it’s hard to choose my favorite “friend” of yours, I am partial to those handy plastic storage bags and my own hair tie. A packing mishap on a business trip necessitated some creativity in fashioning a milk receptacle. I recommend all pumping women carry these two items in reserve in case you forget milk bottles…but, I digress – No, Ms. Medela, I won’t miss your entourage.
Most of all, Ms. Medela, I won’t miss our awkward conversations. Here are a few of my favorites:
- “Mr. Construction worker, why did you so rudely rap on my window while I was getting hooked up outside daycare? I’m sorry I parked right where you planned to place those cones. Little did you know, this is my 2nd day back from maternity leave and you made me cry. Had you scared the living mother’s milk out of me 10 seconds later, you may have even gotten a little show. Good luck with your project!”
- “Hi, male co-worker! How’s your day going? Oh yes…that’s DEFINITELY my printer you hear in the background – busy day in the office!”
- “Excuse me boss, I’m still breastfeeding and need to go out to the rental car before our event tonight to pump. That’s right, the rental car you’re going to spend the next 45 minutes in after I’m finished. I’ll try not to spill.”
- “Your Honor, I am pumped (pun intended) that I’ve been selected for jury duty. However, we need to delay the start of this trial so I can pump and feed my baby…Why, yes, your judge’s library would be the perfect place for me to expose myself.”
- “Hello, gentleman I just met an hour ago. I will be returning late to the next session at this professional conference so I can pump in a dirty bathroom stall. Please don’t think I’m being rude.”
I’m sorry, Ms. Medela, don’t feel hurt as I find a place to store you in my dark, cold basement. It’s nothing personal, you see. You’ve done your job and you’ve done it well. The small human will be 13 months tomorrow and loves to eat, play, and sometimes…sleep. This is in many ways, thanks to you.
Had you not been there with me as I cried on my first day back at work, during jury duty, or in that smelly porta-a-potty; I would have had to find another way to feed his sweet face. While he would have been just fine, I most likely would not. Mom-guilt and the pressure to breast feed are REAL, and I can only imagine how defeated I would have felt without your cooperation. Selfishly, I’ve secretly enjoyed that your involvement meant that I had an excuse to spend more time alone with the small human, and for that, I thank you. While I have not always appreciated you, Ms. Medela, I am truly grateful for what you have allowed me to do for the past 13 months. I know that because our time is ending, my time breast feeding the small human will soon be too – and that, Ms. Medela, I will miss. So, I guess, Ms. Medela…I may just miss you after all…
Sincerely,
The Producer