Recovering from a C-section is a rocky road. One day, you feel great and like your overall pain and movement is totally improving - the next, you feel like you've endured...well...major abdominal surgery. Go figure. So today is one of those days when I'm not feeling quite as up and about, and thus decided to get some more sleep, rest with my feet up, and meet Brad at the hospital later. It's tough, because despite the fact that I'm struggling with my own recovery, I feel very guilty not being by Dylan's bedside 24/7.
Meanwhile, as you all know, one thing that I continue to do for him seemingly all day, every day, is pump. It's not a particularly enjoyable experience, but as you may recall from my previous post, I've learned how to make it as productive as possible for myself (beyond the whole me being milked like a cow thing).
Yesterday, what I perhaps hadn't yet learned was just how conscious of my wardrobe I must be for this exercise. I pump both at our "home" and at the hospital. It's still very warm here in southern Florida, and dresses are all-around more comfortable than anything else (note the discharge day mistake of wearing yoga pants - not good). So I'd pulled on a long, knit sundress over a tank top for the day. This would also work well for my trip back to Mount Sinai (the last!) to have my sutures removed, and transition nicely to dinner, when we met up with Brad's cousins.
As I sat down at the hospital for my first opportunity to pump since getting dressed in this get-up, I set myself up as usual - diaper bag with my supplies beside me on the floor and feet elevated on an ottoman. I then went to pull my arm out of the dress sleeve hole - not budging. I tugged harder. Still, nothing. I ratcheted the dress up a bit and tried the other side. Zero movement. Now I'm writhing around in the chair like Houdini trying to escape a straight jacket.
Finally, after beads of sweat were forming on my forehead, I realized what I had to do. I had to take my dress off. Completely. No longer was I behind the curtain of a pumping room - I was behind the curtain of a full dressing room. And so I stood up sheepishly, and did what had to be done. Then, to avoid resting my ass directly on my chair, I wrapped the dress around me. Did I mention it's freezing in the room? Now shivering, I proceed to pump - hands-free and pants-free.
Mortifying? Yes. Liberating? No.
Horrifying? Yes. Exhilarating? No.
Humbling? Yes. Satisfying? No.
And so another day, another lesson learned.
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1 comment:
Kiesha, we're all thinking of you out here!
Re: pumping, which I did for some 22 months (really!), I found it easiest to wear a tank top with a stretchy neckline and something (*anything*) that could be pulled up to my armpits. If I wore a dress, it *had* to have a stretchy enough neckline to allow this same action. I also eschewed the so-called "hands-free" holster thingy in favor of learning how to balance the bottles on my thighs while leaning over slightly. This allowed me to set up much faster and reach my laptop more easily (my permanent pumping companion).
Anyhow, the tank top/easily liftable shirt combo is really great once you transition to nursing (Dylan, you'll be there so soon, dude!), since it keeps your tummy covered without needing any additional gear.
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