I knew I left something on the plane. Something but I couldn’t recall. I took a backward glance at all our seats and saw nothing. If it were just a blanket or a cloth diaper, it’s no big deal. If I could just rewind time for just a bit … I would’ve looked under my seat. And I would’ve seen that discreet little black pouch.
Full of hope, I asked the concierge to give the airline a call. Afterall, I reasoned to myself, who would want a used breast pump? Surely it would be there waiting for me. But it was gone. Really. Truly.
I was planning to pump another bottleful on the plane to Hong Kong so that Emilio would have something to drink when I went to all my meetings. Having just been to Hong Kong the month before with him, I realized Hong Kong is probably not one of the most breastfeeding countries in the world. Nursing stations are very few and far between – actually just 1 near Toys R’Us and with the absence of lifts and ramps, a struggle to go to. I was also given a rather dirty shawl when I was trying to discreetly breastfeed him in a corner of the hotel’s café. IFC Mall is better with ramps and elevators more accessible but still also no breastfeeding station anywhere.
Emilio usually drinks direct when I’m around. He has no problem drinking from a bottle too. But one thing he cannot do is to drink with a nursing cover on- he arches his back and swats at the nursing cover. He won’t drink when he feel suffocated… or when the world is moving around him and he can’t see.
Three meetings and I can’t leave him in the hotel room with my sisters. I tried to breastfeed at Peking Garden over lunch. Tried again to breastfeed at the waiting area of the first office we went to. I left him with my sisters for a while right after I fed as it was drizzling outside. I went to my 2nd meeting and rushed through it as fast as I could. When I got back to my son, he just finished a crying session that lasted, oh the entire time I was gone. He was hungry, tired and couldn’t nurse well.
Last meeting for the day, I took him with me. He was a good little boy, quietly playing in the conference room while I tried to focus on all the updates, trends and figures being thrown my way. I must have looked like a harried mom. Well I was a harried mom… a harried mom wanting to kick herself for leaving the breast pump in the plane. A harried mom who wanted to just sign everything and get out of there.
My sister brought him out for a little bit but no amount of walking up and down the corridors of that beautiful office was keeping him occupied. With as much dignity as I could, I asked everyone in the conference room to please step out as I had to feed my son in silence. He fed very well and fell asleep. I tried not to think about what everyone was thinking. I stared out the window with the million dollar view of the harbor and wondered, who has my pump? Who on earth took my pump and do they feel bad right now?
Fast asleep, I slowly lay him down in his stroller. Ahh finally, he gets his very late nap for the day. We push him out… I was thinking please just help me get through today. Tomorrow I have no meetings, I can just stay in the hotel.
We were almost there, out into the lobby, when another meeting ended and loud businessmen woke up my little boy with their small talk. I picked him up and prepared to go. Our associate wanted to take picture chronicling our HK visit. During the picture taking, my son made a pretty loud fart. Oops sorry. I put him down in his stroller trying to push the picture taking along. Emilio gave 2 grunts and the whole lobby heard him poo. Now that is a fantastic end to our super stressful day, it made everyone smile. My son will hear this story someday.
We washed him, cleaned him and headed back to the hotel. He had a good feed lying down on the hotel bed and fell asleep right away. He was nursing practically the whole evening… my sister said everytime she peeked at us, he was nursing.
We made it through the next day. We made it through the day after. I was still hoping I’d find my pump. But it was really gone.
Up to this day I sometimes wonder, who got it? Was it thrown away? I keep remembering its smooth egg like shape, the steady thump thumping and the reassuring gush of milk flowing into the bottle. My pump was my buddy, taking me through frantic work days, helping me keep my son healthy despite all the germs in the planes we take monthly.
If I could just rewind time for a bit, I would check under my seat. Instead of a discreet little black pouch, I will put my breastpump, droplets of milk and all in a clear bag for the world to see. I am a breastfeeding, working, often frazzled mommy. Please hand this back to me.
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