A love letter to breastfeeding

Shona Singer - 13 Jun 16

Let me preface this by saying I care not a jot how you feed your child. Although I’m about to extol the virtues of breastfeeding, I am firmly in camp #fedisbest. In the interest of full disclosure, I found feeding extremely easy and pain free which I understand is not everyone’s experience. Likewise I totally get that some people just don’t fancy trying it, and as long as your baby is loved and fed, I have absolutely no opinion beyond that. This is simply my experience, with my baby and my body, and I want to be able to look back at the lovely, snuggly time we spent together, for a those few months when all she needed was me.

Dear Breastfeeding,

I love you. I must admit, this hasn’t always been the case. When Maggie was growing inside me, the size of a sweet potato, or a kiwi and even a butternut squash, the thought of you made me feel a bit squeamish. I knew when my girl arrived that I wanted to try you, but I wasn’t crazy in love with the idea and repeated my mantra of “I’ll do it…as long as it doesn’t hurt” to everyone who would listen.

A chronic oversharer, debater and discusser of all things, I shared my plans with friends, mummies, fellow mamas to be, and random people at my work who were unfortunate enough to comment on my bump and ask how my human growing was going.

I was (surprise) two weeks late, induced, and then further complications led to the need for an emergency section. I worried that the deck was stacked against us already.

I had duly filled out my birth plan in the weeks before my due date, and I felt like it was a bit of a box ticking exercise. However I was so delighted when, after Maggie had cried (thanks be to God) and checked over, they popped her on my chest. Our tiny, red, wrinkled baby girl snorted and forced her nose and mouth repeatedly into my bosie… “She’s rooting”, the midwife said matter of factly. And with that, Maggie latched on.

Latched. On.

Two words that meant nothing to me before motherhood, and would come to mean everything for those first few weeks. So many fellow mummies would tell me how their baby wouldn’t latch on, how feeding was painful as their latch was wrong.

Although not painful, the early days (and weeks!) are challenging. Cluster feeding is no joke, pinned to the sofa for hours, feeding through visit after visit from friends and family and trying to stay modest (!!!) is hard enough even with the beautiful chilled baby we had.

But it gets good.

And then it gets so so good.

Heading out for the day? Just pop a nappy in the bag and away we go!

Baby won’t sleep? On to the boob you go.

Unexpected late night/longer stay somewhere than you meant to? Won’t you take me to…BOOBY TOWN?!

Breastfeeding fits my naturally lazy personality perfectly. Although it’s more difficult for others to help out, middle of the night feeds are infinitely easier when you don’t have to grope your way to the kitchen in the dark to prepare a bottle.

These are tangible benefits however there are other elements I do feel I can attribute to bf, but they might just be Maggie’s personality/genetics. She’s never taken calpol (touch wood!), never had a melt down so epic a booby couldn’t sort it, never cried on a flight, or a train, in a restaurant, for longer than it took me to unhook my oh so sexy nursing bra.

We’re now in to the world of weaning, as well as a nightly formula bottle with the intention of being totally off the boob over the next couple of months.

I can’t say I’m not glad to have my body back, but for those precious first six months, you were perfect.

Until next time,

Shona x

Shona Singer

Currently in the midst of the greatest love story of my life. Spend most of my time writing about it, going on holiday as much as possible and trying to lose those last ten pounds.

View profile for posts, events and more info