The Reality

This week I had to head back to the Centre of the Universe (home of TBFTHITW) to do my ATLS course. That's Advanced Trauma and Life Support for those of you not in medical circles, an intensive two day course designed to prepare doctors for dealing with various trauma situations. It's a great course, and I've been meaning to take it since first year of residency. But it was never in convenient places, never at convenient times, and it cost over $700. So the time was never 'right'. But I need it to work in the emergency room, and I'll be ready to work independently very soon. 

No biggie. So load up Mr. Couz and the Bean and head down for a weekend of fun and trauma, right? Except the Bean still screams bloody murder from the moment he's put in the car until the moment we take him out.* The COTU is about a 5-6 hour drive away. A variety of other logistical reasons made it increasingly obvious that bringing the family with me was probably not the smartest thing to do.

So on to plan B. I was to go alone. There was enough expressed breast milk in the freezer to easily last a few days, and I'd bring my pump with me to keep up my supply. A breast pump is not a glamourous thing at the best of times, but we do what we have to. The course coordinator promised that she was sympathetic to my situation and there would be a place for me to pump during the course. And there was. An empty auditorium with windows in the doors that was open for any random people to wander through. Um, thanks.

So there I was, sneaking out of my trauma lectures every 3-4 hours to get intimate with my breast pump while sitting on the floor of the handicapped stall in the women's washroom. 

It doesn't get more glamourous than that. We'll see how well this pumping thing works out when I'm back to work in May. He'll only be 5 months, and I'd rather not wean him quite yet. 

This Dr. Mom thing is tricky.

*And to those of you who have ever said 'he'll just cry himself to sleep', I wish you were in the car for our entire 8 hour ride to grandma's house. Four 15 minute naps were the only respite from the screaming and crying. We're transitioning him from the infant bucket seat to a rear-facing convertible carseat in the hopes of helping the problem. Cross your fingers for us.