Breastfeeding Week Love

I’d like to conclude the World Breastfeeding Week on an emotional note.

Breastfeeding was not a norm in my family. I got a lot of moral support but zero technical. Because frankly speaking no one knew anything about it.

To top it all off, our paediatrician is a wonderful, thorough, super competent, anti- needless medication, eternally unruffled older professional who has worked around the globe and has magic in his hands who would practically go to any length to diss breastfeeding.

Yes. You read that right.

At 3 weeks when I was still reeling hormonally and emotionally from the first bout of “motherhood”, he told me with a straight face that I was clearly not making enough milk and I should switch to formula. (Without checking her weight or asking about frequency of pee or poop)

I of course went nuts and didn’t sleep for two nights straight (not that we were getting any sleep in anyway!), reading everything I could get my hands on, chewing on my Lactation consultant’s brain (bless her).

Slowly, trip after trip, madness bout after madness bout I came to terms with the fact that in this day and age, he is actually anti breastfeeding. I just needed to tune out every time he had something to say about breastfeeding. It was tougher given that Sass has always been a lower percentile baby when it comes to weight but I had one thing in mind.

*Breastfeeding aboard the guide ride at Kew Garden.

This is the best gift I can give my brand spanking new baby to brave this world.

It builds her immunity, it keeps her hydrated, It customises the milk according to her need. I mean really. How cool is that? Turns out, all that drooly slobber isn’t just fun and games. It actually is absorbed into the areola and using DNA in there, my body makes her milk TO ORDER! Like a bespoke solution.

Also if I am unwell, she gets the antibodies (the natural antibiotics our bodies make, in layman speak) which PREVENT her from catching the bug I have. So it is ESSENTIAL that you don’t cease feeding if you’re unwell. She won’t get the cough from you. She’ll get the protection iOS update so to speak.


Sassi and I have walked around town in London with just her, me, my cross body bag with a pack of wipes and two pampers. Isn’t that amazing?

It helps with the bonding and getting to know her bit, solving all sort of clueless tantrums she might have. If she’s pissed at me not giving her my Fitbit to throw around the room, all I need to do is grab her and shove a nip into her mouth just to have her cooing, giggling and hugging me back within seconds.

So folks, you’ll come across plenty who will tell you you’re doing it wrong.

You don’t have enough milk. (Do you live inside my boobs? Because I seriously need to deworm it then.)

You’ll get early onset arthritis. (Stick to Calcium and Vitamin D supplements like Pooh bear does to Honey)

You will never have your sex life back. (What makes you think it ever left the building. Even if it did, through my C section, have I lost the brains my man fell for too? Mommas. You can turn up the charm whenever you decide you’re done “resting”. That’s a promise)

Your body will disfigure beyond possible repair (this one makes me laugh. Were you not there when I was waddling around town with Humpty Dumpty as my belly?)

You’ll give her the flu (answers above. Antibodies.)

She will use you as a pacifier. (I’d love to comfort my child. Who would not? If it gets to you, get them on to a pacifier. Simple. What’s the big deal?)

And this one is the best. She will become Bé-hayaa (shameless).

I need to pause to stifle my giggle because my besharam (shameless) might just wake up and will put all my plans to work tonight TO SHAME! (I’d love for my child to be shameless if she can recall anything from this age when she is all grown up. At least it teaches her what boobs are ACTUALLY made for. The rest is all additional recreation. Like how you can make origami out of newspaper once you’re done reading. Yeah. That sort)

All these by the way, are real things STRANGERS or not so close acquaintances said to me because people who know me, know better than to even think about stepping beyond that line where they automatically get zapped by laser from my eyes. Yep. I’m scary like that.

My holy grail through this past year has been I live by this website.

I have no idea what I would’ve done without it. It has absolutely every breastfeeding question answered within.

So Mummies who choose to breastfeed, pump it, freeze it, pump some more or slap that baby on to your boob every so often, whatever is your style; stick to your guns and don’t let anyone or Dr. Dolittle talk you out of it.

This past weekend when I told him at our regular check up that Sassi now has 6 teeth he flashed back an evil half smile saying “Breastfeeding must be difficult…”

I will egg his car one day. I will.

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