Pumping Confidential

So here I am, pumping in my office. Today, my second full day back, I mastered (i.e. did not fuck up) pumping in my car on my hour drive to school. I felt like a ninja, pumping away underneath my nursing cover while driving jauntily down the highway. I got to school, used my baby's stroller to transport my new mini fridge through the parking lot, into the building, up the elevator, and all the way down to the hallway to my office. Now I don't have to freak out my colleagues with breastmilk in the common fridge in the main office. I taught my class (which was awesome), and now here we are.

Pumping.

There are two schools of thought on pumping productively: focus on the baby to help make more milk, and stay occupied so you don't worry about how much you're making. You can intuit my strategy, I think.

So day one of pumping in the office, I didn't lock my door (I don't know why--there was this whole scenario in my head about a fire, and I've been knocked unconscious, and no one could save me if my door was locked...whatever). Of course someone knocked on the door within seconds of me starting to pump. I panicked, and yelled some largely incomprehensible version of  "I'm pumping in here! Give me 10 minutes!"

And then I pumped for 20 minutes.

Poor student, standing in the hallway waiting for me. He'd never met me before. What a lovely introduction.

So here we are today. The door is locked (don't think I'm not thinking about that fire), but I think I need to make a sign. Maybe I'll make a boobie sign. That should be sufficient warning.