This whole post feels like it’s going to be an “A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar” joke. Fair warning.
Last week, I went to my first academic conference since Baby was born. I was very much looking forward to giving my presentation and doing a little bit of networking, as I’m getting to the point in my graduate career when that is supposed to happen. I was also looking forward to catching up on some sleeping and thinking. As it turned out, I got a bad cold the night I arrived, which did a number on both sleeping and thinking, but at least I got to present a paper and, yes, do a little networking.
But this post is not about any of those things. This post is about how awkward and ridiculous the process of pumping breastmilk was while I was in attendance at the conference.
The conference was in a great city, at a fancy hotel. I was not staying at the conference hotel because it was way too expensive for a graduate student. However, I assumed this would not be a problem in terms of pumping because many places these days have a ‘family’ restroom, which is a larger restroom that often has a bench and an electrical outlet. [Aside: As I write this, I feel that it is sad I was assuming I would need to pump in a bathroom. Yuck.]
False. There were no family restrooms. Only large women’s bathrooms. They all had a single electrical outlet, but the outlet was located next to the trashcan in all but one of these bathrooms.
After I found the one women’s bathroom that had an electrical outlet not near the trashcan but, instead, near the baby changing station, I was–get this–elated. Only problem was, this bathroom was the farthest point away from almost all of the conference rooms, which meant that I had to spend extra time walking back and forth between my ‘pumping station’ and the conference. This was time that I could have spent doing more networking or work.
[NOTE: It is almost impossible to do work while you are awkwardly hooked to a machine at a bathroom counter in front of a huge mirror trying not to expose yourself to the women who inevitably enter and are awkwardly silent.]
Well, you may ask, why didn’t you avoid the awkwardness and just use your manual (handheld) pump in a bathroom stall?
First of all, that is even grosser than pumping at the bathroom counter.
Second of all, pumping by hand takes at least twice as long, thus cutting even more into the time available to try and introduce myself to Famous and Important Scholars.
So basically, out of this experience, I have several policy recommendations for anybody who happens to ever help plan a conference or attend a conference that may include academic moms, especially academic moms who may not be able to afford a room at the fancy conference hotel and can’t go back and forth between two hotels all day:
1. Set aside a room–it can be a teeny, tiny room–for pumping moms. This room should have a little sink, a few electrical outlets, a few chairs conveniently placed next to the outlets, a trash can, and some paper towels. That’s it.
2. Make sure said room (see #1) is close to where the conference is actually happening. Hotels can be huge.
3. If you happen to attend a conference and you walk into a bathroom and see a pumping mom, for goodness’ sake, don’t just be absolutely silent. Say something like, “Wow, that is awesome! Way to go, mom!” Or something that acknowledges the humanity of the person that is having to expose herself in a perhaps unwanted way.
All in all, after this experience, I am very against needing to pump during my next conference, which feels like a sad choice to have to make. Such is the life of the #academicmom.
The Daily Blind 