It felt like time wasted. I'd sit there and try to think about my baby so I could have let down. I felt a little nauseated every time I pumped. Then, I had to wash and sterilize all my pumping equipment and let it dry. I'd really hate pumping when I had to go pump 2 hours later and came back to find my pumping stuff was wet and cold. Then I had to put cold shields on my warm body. That was a major drag.
Now, life is different. I love pumping.
I pump every day so Joe can give Andie a bottle for one night time feed. (This was a more successful operation with Sam, who didn't care how he got his food as long as he got fed. Andie is more particular about, well, everything and doesn't really like the bottle. Anyway, I digress). So, for ten minutes a day, I get to pump.
It's time to myself. I hook up the pump and open my laptop and have ten minutes of peace and quiet. Joe is on double kid duty for those ten minutes while I speed-read blogs and check email and Facebook. (This is why all my status updates and comments have typos and poor punctuation; I'm typing them one handed while I pump).
My new mantra has become "Sorry, I'm pumping."
As in, "Jen, where's Sam's shoes?"..."Sorry, I'm pumping."
Or, "Jen, when did Andie last get changed?"..."Sorry, I'm pumping."
Or, "Mama! More cookies!"..."Sorry, I'm pumping. Ask Dad."
It's the equivalent of sticking your fingers in your ears and going "La la la...I can't hear you."
It's bliss. Really.