Last week at my university I counted 10 students and one professor who had the opportunity to see my breasts. No, I was not drunk on campus, pulling a “Girls Gone Wild,” nor am I an anatomy major. I am simply a student and a mother and I pump milk for my 10-month-old son, Louie, five days a week in a public restroom on campus.
Pumping in the bathroom, I hear — and smell — what a bathroom is typically used for. I would like a more hygienic and private place to pump. After looking into it for some time I was told by one of the higher ups that they would be able to accommodate my needs at the day care on campus — a building that is a 15-minute walk away. I have yet to find the time to take them up on that.
I was warned by my successful older friends that having a baby at 24, before my career started, was going to be extremely difficult. And it is. Once I get home from classes, it’s all Louie time. And when he’s ready to go to bed at 10 or 11 or midnight, I curl up in bed with him and nurse him to sleep, knowing that I risk falling asleep as well. Once he’s snoring, I slowly climb out of bed and start my work — schoolwork or freelance assignments to make money. By 2 o’clock, the caffeine in my tea is no longer working and I begin to nod off. I count down the hours I have left until dawn to finish my assignments, and realize I’m cutting it close. That’s when I start the coffee — a drug that does not agree with my stomach. But I drink it anyway.
At 3 o’clock, Louie wakes up for another feeding. I climb under the cozy, soft blankets, cuddle my warm baby, and nurse him back to sleep. A majority of the time, I fall asleep too, waking up in a panic at the hours I’ve lost.
On campus, I am an outsider. The moment I mention Louie to a fellow student, it’s like a three-foot crib comes between us and we talk to each other through the wooden bars. It’s not necessarily a bad thing — I don’t have time for a casual lunch or a cup of tea. But it is insulting when I receive comments like, “Was it a mistake?” No. It wasn’t as if the dog ate my homework. I’m 24, only a year under the average age of new mothers. I have a dedicated partner and we chose to have a baby.
According to the Census Bureau, in 2009 adults with at least a bachelor’s degree earned on average over three times as much as adults with some college but no degree earned. Just as breast-feeding is the best nutrition for my son, being a college-educated mom is one of the best things I can do for my son’s future. These facts go together in my mind, and in social science, yet they fail to come together on my campus.
Being provided a clean and convenient place on campus to pump would help to make my life less complicated. But beyond that, the lack of a room designated for nursing mothers is a stand-in for a larger problem: Students who are mothers feel that they don’t belong here — and we do.