On pumping breastmilk and renouncing multi-tasking

First off, no one — no one — excels at multi-tasking. That we all sort of believe we are capable of multi-tasking is comparable to the way we all sort of believe that we are of above-average intelligence; it’s just not true.

But women in particular are vulnerable to the imperative to multi-task — in part because of some of the insidious messaging that suggests that we are innately suited to it, as though there is a gene that helps us to send a work email while fixing breakfast, at the same time that, on speaker-phone, we talk an elderly relation through password-recovery. Think I’m exaggerating? An Ohio woman was pulled over for not only talking on her phone while driving, but also breastfeeding her child. There’s lots to unpack here, but I have to say, I am sort of impressed.

If you’re a woman in the U.S. today, there’s tons of gear that you can buy that will advertise how good you are at multi-tasking: a tee-shirt that reads “Single Mom: Only Because Multitasking Ninja is Not a Job Title” or one that announces, “My Brain Seriously Has Too Many Tabs Open” or a mug declares, “MOM: Master Of Multitasking.” (I’ve yet to come across any multi-tasking dad merch in the wild).

Perhaps we like these jokes and accessories because they take something awful and exploitative (i.e. women doing disproportionate amounts of childcare and household maintenance even when they are the “breadwinners”) and make us feel less alone and even somewhat appreciated.

Because we are working hard and we do deserve respect. Mothers who work outside of the home are also spending more time parenting that in previous generations (and many of us are providing care for elderly family members as well). Black women in particular have long been negotiating employment and domestic responsibilities — and yet still too often find themselves excluded from conversations about “work-life balance.”

The demand that we parent intensively as well as participate in an unforgiving work force inevitably results in many of us feeling almost permanently out-of-breath and out-of-place: when we are at work, we feel we should be at home and when we are at home we feel we should be working. So we shop for school supplies at our desks and check out email on the playground. We’ve become so thoroughly convinced that we need to be both working and parenting at all times that we try to work and parent at all times and, let me remind you, you can certainly get things done when you multitask, but you won’t do them well.

Which brings me to my point about pumping breast milk. Pumping — and breastfeeding more generally — crystallizes the precariousness of a work-life balance because it is one of those moments when our actual physical needs run up against the demands of the workplace. It lays bare the absurd contradictions many of us are forced to navigate daily, as well as reveals the extent to which many of have internalized the unhealthy demand that we be doing all things at all times.

The last time I expressed milk was a few years ago. I was sharing an office with four male colleagues and there was no designated pumping area in my building. When my boobs started to ache, I would have to pack up my stuff and head to our shared bathroom. Before I closed the door, though, I would plug in the pump at a nearby outlet and then trail the cord along the floor so that I could close the door over it. Once inside the bathroom, I would set up my bags and bottles and caps, lean against the sink, think about my baby, and settle down for a about 15–20 minutes per breast. (I had a one-at-a-time number; if I were to do it all again, I might have sprung for something speedier).

It’s really hard to doing anything else “productive” when you’re actively producing milk. You could hypothetically watch a show or maybe read a book, but I found pumping in the bathroom to be awkward and difficult: once, when I tried to balance my computer on the sink so that I could satiate my longing to pump and work at the same time, I of course did the inevitable, which was to drop a full bottle of literally hard-wrung milk on my computer, which itself clattered to the tile floor.

“You okay in there?” one of my officemates called weakly from the other room.

“No,” I answered.

I was met with silence.

What I’m getting at is that pumping is one of those activities that takes, if not complete attention, a significant slice of it. For me, it was liberating to recognize that I should and could just pump and not do anything else. A physical imperative forced me to withdraw, to press pause, and to check in with myself, if only for a little while, before I had to go back to trying to be everything to everybody.

The fact is that we, at best, ask women to be both amazing mothers and uncomplaining, productive workers or, at worst, ask mothers to pretend that they are not mothers, that any emotional or physical adjuncts to parenthood be denied, erased, or ignored. This is made clear by the fact that, despite the law, so few workplaces accommodate breastfeeding mothers. Recently, a new mother working at a Family Dollar had to leave a sign on the store’s door: “Sorry had to pump for my baby and no 1 else is here. Back in 30.” The employee — who reports that she was initially advised to “run back and forth” and pump in between helping customers — was appropriately praised all across the Internet. But why did she have to do this in the first place? It’s extra rich that a company that aligns itself with “family” values is so unsupportive of a new mother.

We expect women to do the work — the physical work, but also the emotional, organizational, intellectual work — and we expect women to do it silently, out of sight, and without any interruption in the normal 9–5 office routine. But pregnancy and childbirth and breastfeeding and raising children are inherently disruptive, which is perhaps why these tee-shirts and mugs about being a multi-tasking supermom resonate with so many of us: we want, at last, to be seen. Like the Family Dollar employee whose sign went viral, we want our everyday challenges and sacrifices and victories to be recognized, admired, approved of, applauded.

So I see you, multi-tasking ninja mom, although I’d going to start marketing my own merch that revels in the glories of “Uni-Tasking”: tee-shirts that declare, “I’m so focused, I don’t even see you checking out my boobs” and “Single Moms Do Things One-At-A-Time” and mugs that announce: “Ninja Uni-Tasker, so don’t even ask.”

So, if you’re that breastfeeding/talking/driving Ohio mom, let me hook you up with a cross-stitch or a can-cozy that says: “It’s okay for the kids to be late for school sometimes” or “I’m not answering that now and maybe not later either” or a sign for your bedroom door, “Gone Pumpin’.” Let’s lean in to the uni-task. Your work, your family, your health, and your sanity probably deserve it.