{ Elisa Nelissen }The bell chimes announcing the tram is arriving. It pulls up and the doors slide open on the opposite side, letting the passengers out. Tears prick my eyes because I want to be arriving, not leaving. I only have two more days, but my homesickness is at it's peak and I'm having a hard time keeping it together. The last 5 days were intense; 18 hour days in front of clients, most of those hours on my feet and with a smile plastered on my face. I had to be on at all times- helpful, knowledgeable, "can-do".
I step off the tram onto my terminal and detour into the bathroom. I pick a stall far from the door and pull the breast pump out of my luggage. It's jammed into my carry-on, taking up most of the room, not leaving much space for clothes. I waste time on my phone while sitting on the toilet, pumping. Will is going to be one soon, but I'm desperate to breastfeed exclusively like I did with Finn. I don't get much milk, only 3 ounces and I feel frustrated. So much work and I'm barely keeping up. Such a theme of my life right now. Running nonstop, yet achieving so little beyond the daily tasks. I want to take pictures and make videos and write. But by the time the kids are asleep and the dishes are dry, sleep is the only thing that sounds good.
My pants are slightly wet near the pocket after I leave the bathroom. My fingers rub over the spot again and again. I trace the outline and think about my life. I drag my nail against the denim, and I can see the fibers fray.
1 comment:
You have a lot of determination. I tried the pump routine when I went back to work and only lasted a couple of months. Didn't help that my bosses kept barging into my office when I was pumping, despite the DO NOT ENTER signs on the door.
I hope the rest of your trip passes quickly and you can get back to your family soon.
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