Little Pea is now 18 months old, and we are still continuing on our breastfeeding journey. The Princess had decided she had had enough of my milk by the time she was 12 months, which devastated me and left me feeling empty and redundant, yet also meant I could take the medication which successfully controlled my anxiety and depression. Swings and roundabouts and all that, eh?
Anyway. Pea is still a total milk monster and I am still more than happy to be feeding him, despite the rather frequent night-wakings during teething or illness or developmental leaps or days that I have been out at work, and despite the fact that he pulls my top down to indicate his need to feed at rather inopportune moments, like while executing a ‘Downward Dog’ during a yoga class, or while attempting to pay for shopping while I don’t have a free hand with which to protect my modesty, or during any given mealtime anywhere ever. Oh, and despite his love of twiddling the opposite side to the one he’s feeding on, and the fact that just putting his hand inside my bra isn’t enough, he has to fully expose the opposite breast. This is fine at home when it’s just us, but you should see the looks I get in the local cafe….
I never had any expectations of breastfeeding with either of my babies, and still don’t, I’ll just keep feeding Pea as much as he wants for as long as he wants, and I’ll enjoy every moment of it (except the nipple-pulling) because I know it could all be over at any moment.