There is no content to display.
I love breastfeeding!
There- I said it. I have to admit that in the past, I found it a bit weird when friends told me how they loved breastfeeding. It wasn’t until I experienced the presence, connection and great feelings of nourishing my little being on tap that I realised what all the hype was about.
So when little M decided to abrubtly end our breastfeeding journey by going on a prolonged feeding strike, I was shocked and (unexpectedly) deeply upset. I didn’t want to give up so I pumped a further couple of weeks in the hope he would change his mind and perhaps stop testing out his shiny new teeth on me…
I pumped and cried, I cried and pumped. Then I had to accept, grieve and move on. I sought out my midwife for some counselling to help move past the emotional pain of this huge development.
The worst thing was, reflecting on the last time that we fed peacefully (in a doctor’s waiting room, mundane, no fanfare), I kept thinking that ‘If only I knew that would have been the last time… maybe I would have been more present.. maybe I could have detected signs that he was losing interest… maybe, maybe, maybe…’
How can I have not been mindful at THAT time?
But the thing is, we will never know when something will happen for the last time. And even when things DO end, new developments and adventures replace the past events and so it goes… We can’t be mindfulness experts all of the time. Sometimes life gets in the way. But we try… and try… Until the next event slips past us by like a thief in the night.
The poem below has been doing the rounds on social media lately.
The author is unknown.
It really captures the essence of what happens when witnessing the growth of a child.
It is a great reminder to all of us sleep-deprived parents that ‘this too will pass’.
Beware as some salty discharge may emanate from eyes…