Watch this old Dunkin Donuts commercial: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=petqFm94osQ
Scott sent me the link to that commercial.
My cell phone has 9 alarms programmed in it, all for my pumping schedule. We joke everytime the alarm goes off that it’s “time to make the donuts.” because I’m ALWAYS pumping, or seems that way.
People told me pumping sucks, but to me, it’s not all that bad. The sound, the motion, it all lulls me to sleep. And then, pumping is the ONLY thing I can do right now to take care of my babies. I can’t bring them home, can’t rock them to sleep, can’t hold them when I want. So my pumping breast milk 9 times a day gives them something they need, something that only I can provide. It’s my job, and I love it.
Except that I’ve started to sleep pump.
When I was younger, my mom always found me sleep walking: making lunch, getting ready, doing all kinds of things. As I’ve gotten older, it’s drastically been reduced–can’t really remember when the last time was that I slept walked. Until now.
My evening pumping schedule is midnight, 4am, 8am. This gives me a chance to get at least two 3.5 hour blocks of sleep each night (also figure it’s good training for when the boys do come home). The first week home, I kept waking up every hour to look at my clock, to make sure I didn’t sleep through an alarm. This week I’m waking up and pumping, sort of.
The other night I woke up, stumbled to the living room where I have my ‘station’ set up, got hooked up, turned on the pump, finally looked at the clock on the DVR box, was very confused, looked at my phone, wait, what? It was 2:09. Crap. Stumbled back to bed.
Sleep, wake up, start pumping. After who knows how long, I reach down to check the bottles, realize there are none there. I’m sitting straight up in bed. Who knows how long I’ve been ‘pumping.’ Grab my phone to check the time. 2:47. Crap.
Repeat the above scenario. Grab my phone to check the time. 3:34. Crap.
Alarm finally goes off at 4. OMG, I don’t want to get up. Pump for real this time. Bed.