Just looking for a little privacy

Breast feeding is not a subject that embarrasses me, exactly, and I will discuss it candidly with new or expectant mothers. But in certain company, which is to say any man other than my husband, I get bashful about it. So it was with some bravado that I approached a group of eight men (and one woman) to initiate a conversation about it.

They were walking through my office building with clipboards, making notes on blueprints and pointing at ceilings and fixtures. It was recently announced that the building is being remodeled, so I thought, here's my chance to solve one of the logistical issues of having another baby. See, if I go back to work while I'm still nursing, I have to pump milk for the baby a couple times a day. And I work in a cubicle. In fact, my whole office is cubicles, as are many of the other office suites in the building.

So, I approached the guy who seemed to be leading the tour of architects and designers, and who turned out to be the owner of the building. I told him my suggestion: include a lactation room in the remodeling plans. To his credit, he did not need to ask me to define "lactation room" and after an initial look of mild surprise, he asked me several questions about it. What should be in the room (a comfy chair, table, electrical outlet and preferably a sink); how would you access it (just use one of those deadbolts with a vacant/occupied display, maybe a schedule to sign up on); and how many people would use it (I have no idea).

I could have kept a low profile and emailed my suggestion to someone. An email would have been easy to ignore, though. Face to face, I could use the force of personality--and blushing eye contact--to persuade them that this was a reasonable request, from a sensible and soon-to-be-lactating damsel in distress.

Thank goodness I wasn't wearing my Birkenstocks, or they would have written me off as a crazy hippie earth mother. I'm not crazy, I'm just looking for a little privacy.