Rockstar: Can touch here?
Me: No, not there either
Rockstar: What is it?
Me: Breasts
This has been a repetitive conversation. With no easy location to express milk in the office, I started each hectic work day 90 minutes earlier and ended it 90 minutes later for almost a year, budgeting time to hook myself up to a giant industrial-sized electric breast pump rented from a Hong Kong Sanatorium affiliate.
(They give you the rental brochures and strongly encourage everyone in the hospital to nurse asap – there are very comfy, clean nursing rooms and if you can bear the cost and they have space (our gynea, Dr Liang Shuk Tak (also Cecilia Chung’s gynea, we find out much later) books places at least 6 months in advance, almost when you are newly pregnant- which I understand is pretty standard), you can even stay in the hospital for a relatively long time. I have an ex-colleague who stayed 9 days after a C-section, chatting up nurses to train her to care for her new baby, but the average is 5 days).
Cost of 5 day C-section package at Hong Kong Sanatorium when Rockstar was born:
~HKD 40,000
Gynea cost: ~HKD 40,000
Anesthesiologist cost: ~HKD 20,000
Total cost: ~ HKD 100,000 (and no it’s not a super-posh hospital, more like slightly high side of average but known for good facilities “in case God forbid anything goes wrong” says our gynea who insists on Sanatorium… in Hong Kong, posh is Matilda Hospital on the Peak)
Anyway, I tried to bottle-feed Rockstar my breastmilk with as much skin contact as possible… As any breastfeeding mum will probably attest, evoking breast-access rights incites some form of protest from most toddlers.
Rockstar: Why cannot touch?
Me: It’s not appropriate behavior for big boys.
Rockstar: <sly look> Can Daddy touch?
Kings: Hmm? What was the question again? Wha-at!
<to Rockstar> Aiyaaaaaaa! You so naughty aaaaaaaah!
Rockstar: Hee hee hee
Rockstar has never asked since.
