Sunday, 14 August 2011

The Milky Way

In the not so distance past I was of the opinion that breasts were aesthetically pleasing, sexual objects that happened to live on my chest. I was never a girl of over sized jumpers; instead I enjoyed flaunting them to men, women...animals. I was proud and relished the attention they recieved- even if it was at times unwanted. Is that not what most teenagers think? We can't wait to grow our boobs, the bigger the better and the earlier the better. Society tells us so.
 So one can only imagine my reaction, a goods few years beyond my teenage ones, when I found myself in Boots, with my Mother and accidentally pregnant looking at the many things on offer for expectant mums when my mum casually asks 'Are you going to breastfeed?'. My chin hits the floor. What? Pardon? Excuse me? 'I think it's something you need to consider?' Shell shocked and slightly sweaty I follow my Mother to an aisle full of bottles, tins of formula, sterilisers and right at the top some totally alien products related to breastfeeding. This was the first time in my life, I can honestly say, that I considered my own breasts as anything other than sexual aids.
 I'm a fairly well educated person, lacking in Mathematical skill and signs of genius, but am pretty impressed with my educational  achievements, so why, oh why oh why am I so, well ignorant about breastfeeding? How does it work? What do you do? What's a nipple shield? You can extract it? What does latch mean? Formula milk isn't good for babies? I think secondary education has a lot to answer for, I mean P.S.E lessons for example, really handy in telling me that because I like animals I should be a butcher, but in terms of real knowledge, why didn't breastfeeding come up? Isn't the health of the future generations and the welfare of Mothers important enough to be included in the National Curriculum?
 It was only in the trying and subsequent failing in breastfeeding my daughter that I finally found out the truth behind breastfeeding. It comes down to a few simple points; It's not easy and is a skill to master, you're not a failure for finding it difficult, it does not make your breasts sag, you don't need any special equipment, you don't need to supplement with formula, you do produce enough milk and most importantly it is the very best start that you can give your child.
 Two years on, I've mastered the art of breastfeeding, I regret not being able to manage feeding my daughter for longer but am still feeding my one year old Son. My only problem now is figuring out how to stop?!

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

Reflective and perhaps a little sad.

Whilst watching the ever insightful Cbeebies this evening, I was struck by the odd message that seemed to be shouting at me via a polar bear and his 'new' friend the snow seal. See, the polar bear had a falling out with his best friend, the furry seal, so decided to make himself a new best friend (A seal shaped snowman). He quickly discovered that the snow seal didn't pull his weight, didn't play games, didn't talk, didn't move, wasn't alive... The polar bear soon decided that his real best friend was pretty cool (excuse the pun) and they made it up, the polar bear remarking that 'friends made out of snow are boring'.  
   This got me thinking about a friendship of my own that has become sour recently. I was a bit upset at the thought of somebody in the world thinking so ill of me, but when I analyse our relationship I discovered that it was always cold. The friend rejoiced in my sadness;always sharing anecdotes of their own more expensive, bigger, better experiences. I always left our meeting deflated. So, as our friendship hits a rock I am reminded by the wise words of the polar bear; that it was a cold relationsship, no warmth within a person rejoices at the sadness of others, nor boasts.. SO I must concluded that I am no longer sad, or at a lost. Friends made out of snow really are boring.

Saturday, 6 August 2011

Boring sleep.

Think it's an early night for me this evening. I had a wild night at a Lady Gaga tribute and am suffering today. It's got me thinking; when did I morph into such a lightweight? I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't that drunk, as I was a tad merry;  my problem is that I actually had two drinks. Yes, TWO drinks. Crabbies ginger ale to be precise.
  I also didn't really come in that late, around about 11:30 and tucked up in bed by midnight. So why, oh why oh why am I so tired today? I feel monstrously hungover and although it is just past 20:00hrs I'm ready to jump into bed. I think it must be the three years of disturbed sleep. For since falling pregnant with my daughter nearly three years ago, I have not had longer than six hours sleep in a row.  In the beginning of pregnancy I woke to throw up, the middle of pregnancy with excruciating legs cramps and the end of pregnancy to pee every hour, then you have a newborn to look after, then you do it all again. (My youngest still not sleeping through despite being 13 months old) Anyway, you get the point. I'm craving a full nights sleep the same way one would crave a hot buttered crumpet, a holiday in the Caribbean or sex.
  Still, why am I moaning on here about it? Because, in case you have not noticed, I'm tired and tired people like to moan. I'm done now. Please excuse me, I'm off to bed.