Back to Work

It's been a long while since my last post. I've been happily spending time with my handful two-month old boy, seeing to his needs and preparing for my return to the office.

March 2. My first day at work and first day as an EFLC-er. New office. Yes! Clean restrooms where I can happily pump my son's milk supply. Not so many people around so I can still sterilize my pump parts. Wait! No electrical outlet inside restroom. Restroom available to the public unless I opt to use second floor CR (where there are rumored "spirits"...). No refrigerator to store milk.

Breastfeeding really takes dedication. No refs? No problem. I have to go out the EFLC building, walk to the 5-storey building, go up 4 floors and to CTA's office. Easily a 5-7 minute walk. Back again to EFLC building. Whew. Who says I need to go on a diet? There goes my breakfast. Need to pump at least 4 times a day to establish good milk supply. That's breakfast, mid-AM snacks, lunch and merienda. Now I need to buy a new pair of shoes. The old ones just gave out.

My usually soft-as-a-baby's hands are now rough and dry from sterilizing, washing bottles and pump parts. Not to mention I once spilled a liter of boiling water on the EFLC carpet -- infront of our boss.

Sneaking out to pump feels like I'm sneaking out to meet a secret boyfriend...or stealing precious resources from the company (yes, time!)...but it shouldn't be. Pumping takes only 15-20 minutes (if you're really slow). And besides, I compensate by staying until 6:30 even if I can go home at 4:30.

By the end of the day, I know I am a full-pledged mom. I am dying and hurring to go home. I walk with a purpose, carrying my precious yield of the day. I can smell my son's scent already as I wait for an FX or a jeepney.

When I finally reach home, my efforts are all rewarded. He may still be sleeping but when he wakes, he'd give me a smile that says he missed mommy. He'd feed from my breast and gurgles and coos and all the hassles of the day are erased and replaced by that warm tingling feeling of being loved unconditionally. His eyes are locked on mine and he'd fall asleep still nursing, or resting his cheeks on my bossom, or lying bottoms up on my chest. His arms around mine, grasping my shirt or my hair and not wanting to let go.

I am a mom. This is me now. I can't remember being anything else before he came along.