Miriam Posner has published a valuable, informative article about
how to accommodate a breast-pumping mom at an academic conference on her blog.
HEAR HEAR!
At a conference in Houston, someone (someone really smart, with a PhD and lots of books and articles) suggested that I should use a public bathroom to pump during a large group dinner at a fancy restaurant. I was desperate, so I checked out the bathroom: the only outlet was near the sink, far away from any locking stalls. To relieve myself of engorgement--or just to stay consistent so I could keep producing milk on my daughter's meal schedule--I'd have had to get half-naked (I supposed I might have fashioned a drape out of my suit jacket) and stand before a
wall of mirrors with vacuum cones stuck to my boobs, the loud WHIRRRR of the machine defeating even vague aspirations to inconspicuousness. I ended up taking that meal to-go.
At MLA in Seattle, a well-meaning volunteer sent me on a wild goose chase looking for *the mom room* deep in uninhabited portions of the Convention Center. Eventually, I was so frustrated that I finally locked myself into one of the presentation rooms, hoping I'd not meet someone famous, or anyone on any of my interview committees, on the way out, 20 minutes later. I also pumped my way through some over-scheduled campus interviews. (You just try to explain to the interviewers why you need 20 minutes to yourself between that meeting with the dean and the luncheon with the students--without revealing you have a hungry 8 month old two states away waiting for your happymeals.) And I was the one begging the airplane attendants for new ice to put in my travel cooler that was full of the saved milk I was dragging home for the kid. That stuff is liquid gold! Pumping-and-dumping can make a hormonal, sleep-deprived new mom on a job interview dissolve into a puddle of tears on the inadequate floor space of an airplane bathroom.
I nodded my head the entire time I read Posner's article, but there are a few things she was simply not petty enough to mention: 1. how fast you leak when you can't pump in time--milk blossoms ruining your nice conference outfit and causing untold embarrassment (and 1a. the discomfort of those maxi-pads for breasts); 2. how hard it can be to find ways to save the milk you've pumped--ice, coolers, decent sized fridge/freezer units in a hotel; and 3. how darn heavy the pump equipment and cooler (full of ice and bags of milk) can get over the course of a day (and 3a. that awkward moment when someone asks you what is in the huge blue plastic case you're carrying around with your laptop, or jokes about what the cooler might contain, you know, to get you through the long day of panels.)
I paid some good money (about $30 or $40/month) to rent a hospital-grade breast pump for some of these conferences, and that thing was a brick. It's like carrying a precious brick--one that will cost you about $450 to replace--in your suitcase through airport security, lounges, bathrooms, lines, planes, taxis, hotels, and so on. You already never stop thinking about your boobs and when they're going to betray you, and now you've also got a gold-producing brick (with various tubes and funnels) to babysit.
Funny thing: my kid weaned herself as soon as she learned how to walk (away from me), and she has not considered my chest since that time, eight or so months ago. Until last week, when she learned the word "boobs" and now she's constantly checking to see if mine are still around. At my house, we are hoping that this renewed interest in Mama's chest does not transfer itself to daycare.
