Lactation Rooms

The New York Times has a great article on the relatively new "lactation suites" at our nation's Capitol.  Apparently they're one of the few bipartisan meeting places there!


I've had what I imagine is a fairly typical experience with trying to pump breastmilk at work: lots of people have good intentions to help, but it's been quite difficult at times.  


Stanford's medical school has a brand new, enormous, beautiful building called the Li Ka Shing Center.  Unfortunately, when it was being set up, someone forgot that half of the population can have babies, that those babies need breast milk, and that breast milk often needs to be pumped while women are at work and school--so when it opened, there was no designated space for pumping.


"What's the big deal?"  you might think.  Why can't you just use the restroom?  Well, aside from the small matter of hygiene (you don't prepare your meals in the bathroom), the bathrooms in the new medical school building only have power outlets right next to the sink.  Out of desperation, I did stand next to the sink once to pump, and just winced every time someone walked in--but that was pretty bad.  Unlike when you're nursing a baby, your breasts are quite exposed when you're pumping, and if you're like me, you feel utterly ridiculous.  So you actually appreciate a good amount of privacy.


Eventually an empty breakroom was designated as the place to pump.  Unfortunately, the room is locked, and they won't give me a key.  So I have to request a key from someone every time I need to pump (every few hours).  This is bad for several reasons:

1)  Going to get the key and then give it back adds (in the best scenario) about 5 minutes to a process that you really want to be as quick as possible.

2)  Frequently the person with the key is not available; either they've stepped away from their desk, or it's lunch time, or it's after 5 pm.  This can mean spending extra time--up to 15 minutes chasing various people down--to find someone else with a key...or that I'm just out of luck.

3)  Finally, during the many times I've had to run around explaining to various people that I needed to get into this room to pump breastmilk, I've realized that it's pretty demeaning to have to ask permission to do this.  I shouldn't have to ask permission, nor should I have to explain to 3 or 4 people what I need the key for every time I need it.

The other non-ideal feature of this room is that the lights are on a motion detector timer--which is set to turn off every 15 seconds if you're not walking around.  Since the room doesn't have windows, this means that you're plunged into darkness every 15 seconds, at which point you have to stand up--still pumping--to get the lights to turn back on.

It's been 6 months since I first requested a space for pumping, and 3 months since the situation has been this particular locked room.  Not ideal.  So what are the ideal features for a lactation room?  Chime in in the comments!

Can you tell a baby boy from a baby girl?

I had just rolled up to a checkout line at the grocery store when the cashier began to coo over my baby.  We get that a lot.  She's awfully cute.  That day, she was sporting an especially adorable blue sweatshirt with a small ruffle around the neck, and the corduroy pull-ups from Baby Gap mentioned in a previous post.

The cashier was a big guy, I'm guessing upwards of 300 pounds, which made his effusiveness all the more fun.  "Who's mama's big boy?" he gushed.  "You certainly are a big strong baby boy, aren't you?"

"Oh...," I said, "um, thank you!"

Sometimes it just isn't worth it to me to correct people when they think my baby is a boy, not a girl.  I don't really care at all if they get it wrong, but when I do correct people, it seems to somehow upset them; they often wind up apologizing over and over, becoming especially vehement in their declarations of how pretty my baby is, etc. etc.  So this time, I didn't say anything.

But he went on and on.  And then 2 more people peered into the stroller and began making similar exclamations about what a big, healthy baby boy I had... .  At this point, I sort of wanted to correct them, but it had gone on so long that it was just not possible.  So I meekly paid and we made our exit.

And it got me thinking.  Is it even possible to tell a baby boy from a baby girl?  I mean, from the neck up, if they're not wearing any bows or baseball caps?

Where the gender gap in costs begins...Baby Gap!

So, our family made a little pilgrimage to baby Gap last week to exchange some Chanukah gifts.  I had my eyes peeled for pants that could possibly squeeze over my baby's ample bum--and her even-more-ample cloth diapers.  Most pants just don't fit.  And then I saw them!  They were in the boy's section. On sale for $12.95.

I wasn't surprised that they were on sale, frankly.  They looked weird!  The crotch of these pants was cut really low, down by the knees. Which meant that they would fit perfectly over a bulky cloth diaper.
Here they are, in olive green.  The tag was labeled "corduroy pull-on pants":

Deal!  I grabbed a pair.  Then I looked around to see if there were any other colors.  And then I saw them in the girl's section, in off-white.  They were identical except that the ankles were gathered rather than straight.  AND...they were $2 more, $14.95 total.  AND, believe it or not, the tag was labeled  "harem pants":

I'm ashamed to say that I'm so desperate for well-fitting pants that I bought the girl's pair too, despite the gender cost differential.  And despite the absurdity of "harem" pants for babies.  Sheesh.