We hit an important milestone – our tight little nursing dyad has existed for two years, three weeks, and two days. This means that, for 753 days (and nights) my body has produced milk, which my son has drunk several times a day, by suckling on my breasts. I’ve written about breastfeeding before, and I have also written about my conflicted relationship with my chest. Everyone who knows me personally knows that I am a breastfeeding advocate, someone who is not afraid to speak up for the normalization and the desexualization of this beautiful and necessary act.
Throughout these two years of motherhood, I’ve spoken openly in real life and on social media about why it’s important for me to feed my child with my own milk and how I believe it’s crucial that nursing mothers get all the support they can possibly get. I post status updates (even the occasional brelfie) to celebrate our nursing milestones and international occasions like the World Breastfeeding Week, I follow several websites dealing with social issues and promoting breastfeeding information, I even started working as a volunteer for an association that provides support for first-time mothers where I focus especially on nursing moms, because that’s the kind of experience I can share.
Now that he started trotting more than walking, on his way to figuring out how to run, accidents happen increasingly often. His eyes go faster than his feet and life is simply too short to waste any time on lifting your soles a bit higher. So after he fell on the same knee for three times in a row and was shocked at the Continue reading →
One week ago today my Little Man accomplished the first full year of his breathtaking little life. There have been balloons and window festoons, cakes candles and bubbly wines. The event has been celebrated thoroughly. Mama even played “Happy B*Day” on her bass to accompany the choir of teary aunts and proud grandpas: everything has been lovely and emotional like no other occasion I can think of.
But they say that when a Child is born so is a Mother, and therefore one week ago today the disheveled New Mom that I have become accomplished the first full year of her breathtaking and somewhat erratic little life, too.
today has not been easy, I know. A day when nothing tastes right, because anything you put in your mouth simply hurts. Hell, it hurts even if you don’t put anything in there. No wonder: three of them, all at once! And you’ve been taking it with your chin up, with that tough baby pride which is so you. Three swollen buds on the upper gum and you can see the white through the skin already. You didn’t cry much, but you’ve been cross, restless, desperate for a hug all day long. It just hurts, and only Mama’s breast feels right, Mama’s chest, neck, being in her arms, nowhere else is good. Not even the Cold Fish was of any use to relieve you a bit. Growing up is so tough, I know.