Don't let them tell you birth's not beautiful

I recent read a story about the unassisted birth of undiagnosed twins.  Now this lady wasn't looking for an unassisted birth.  The babies were BBA (born before arrival) of the Midwife.  It was a planned homebirth and the mum simply trusted her body and her baby was born.

This reminded me of the two babies that I 'caught' in their homes.  Both mothers had planned hospital births.  These were first babies and both mothers wanted the 'safety' of hospital.  The first was insistent that her low pain level meant she would require an epidural, the second wanted to do everything to avoid an epidural as she had done her research and believed that she could do it.  The first laboured silently and had a slight change in demeanour and stance, the second roared throughout with an increase in roar and intensity moments before the baby was born.  What they both had in common was a faith and belief in their own bodies.

I find it sad that whenever there is an article, blog or news report of an unassisted birth, the first comments are instant 'doomsayers'.  "Ooh you are so lucky that there were no complications", "My baby would have died if that had happened to us".  There is no denying that there are times when life saving measures NEED to be taken, the clue being in LIFE SAVING.  Why is it wrong to glory in the beauty of birth?  Why can't women, mothers, pat themselves on the back and say "look at me.  I did it!"?  Mothering can be a thankless task at the best of times, so why can't we start our mothering careers with a quick "didn't I do well"?  None of this is about downplaying some one else's birth experience.  This is that moment of congratulation when Mum can look at herself and say "Wow but I was wondrously made, and look at what I was blessed enough to do".

There are many many horror stories about birth out there.  Many!  The oft trumpeted hospital birth having quite a few.  For those that have horror stories there is the birth trauma support group.  A healthy baby isn't the only outcome that we should look for at a birth.  We also need a happy, healthy mother.    What messages do we send to our daughters if we hold back the 'good' birth stories?  And when I say 'good birth stories', I don't just mean the unassisted births or the 'I just breathed and the baby came', I mean ALL the good birth stories.  The 'I laboured for hours and just when I thought I couldn't go on, I was holding my baby', the 'I had my baby in hospital and the MW was so hands off'.  I even mean the 'I knew the pros and cons, I chose to have an epidural and had a lovely birth',  and the 'I was induced and it happened quickly and easily'.  Funny how women are allowed to have THOSE birth stories and no one accuses them of passing judgement on others.  

One of my ladies (remote support) went to 43 weeks with her pregnancy.  It's not as uncommon as you might think, given the levels of inductions at 41+ weeks.  There are the horror stories of the doubling of the still birth rate.  Well who wouldn't run into hospital to be induced if they knew the risk of still birth was doubled!  But what do they mean by doubled? 0.3% to 0.6%.  Statistics. (Here's a quick look at some hospital statistics for birth and maternal health.)  We need to know what they are and what they mean in relation to us and our bodies and babies.  My lovely lady, S, wanted a homebirth.  Her pregnancy was normal.  There were no high risk indicators, both S and baby were doing fine.  As she passed her EDD (Estimated Due Date) the talk turned to induction. The risks began to be talked about.  The homebirth midwives began to say that they would not be able to come out to her if she went over 42 weeks.  Week 40 and her friends were beginning to become impatient.  "Haven't you had that baby yet?", "I can't wait to see that baby.  Why isn't it here yet?".  They began to suggest induction and ask if she was going to be induced.  Week 41 rolled up.  The homebirth midwives were crossing their fingers, but bound by hospital protocol, reminded S that she would have to go to hospital to give birth.  Week 42 appeared.  Mum and Dad were trusting her body and knew that their baby wasn't ready to be born.  The hospital told her that she would no longer be allowed to have a homebirth and that she would have to go in and have a hospital birth.  S asked simply to be monitored and, politely but firmly, told the hospital that her intention was to give birth at home.  With each monitoring appointment, all was clear that mum and baby were healthy and happy.  S, herself, was beginning to get impatient.  "What can I do to hurry this up?" she asked me.  "Wait!" I said.  "Okay, I'll continue with the monitoring and I'll wait".  Week 42 was coming to an end.  The external voices were getting louder "This is taking a really long time.  Are you allowed to be pregnant for so long?".  "Is this baby ever coming?".  S trusted her body.  The baby was moving nicely.  The monitoring still showed a healthy baby and mum.  Good, steady heartbeat.  Dad trusted Mum.  The hospital again told her that hospital protocol didn't allow for her to give birth at home.  When she, again politely and firmly, told that that she was staying home, they told her that they had a duty of care to provide a midwife, but that she had to come in to hospital.

Labour started slowly and moved slowly.  36 hours in and Dad called me for a chat.  What could they do to get things moving?  I replied "Lots of sex and laughter".   More waiting.  He told me that she was having difficulty using the bathroom.  I mentioned that perhaps the head was moving down and getting ready.  He replied "No, the contractions aren't regular enough and she only feels uncomfortable". And then suddenly she was in the birth pool, and then 8-9cm dilated.  Within a couple of hours she was holding her baby and Dad text to tell me that it was a beautiful birth, he remembered his role in encouraging her when it got harder for her at the end. When their daughter was born, the midwives agreed that there was no way this baby was overdue, but had come exactly when she was meant to.  

How different all of that might have been with the interventions.  36 hours of labour and not much seeming to happen?  Surely that's cause for syntocinon?  Surely she needs to have her waters broken?  Surely speed is needed to 'get the baby out'?  

It's time to begin loving women again.  Loving BEING a woman again.  Trusting in women's bodies again.  Celebrating the wonder that is a birthing mother.  

What's a guy to do?

I don't know how she told you.  Perhaps you came home and the table was set with a beautiful meal and wrapped in your napkin were a pair of knitted bootees (yes, clearly my mind is on a very old TV commercial).  Perhaps you were pacing outside a bathroom whilst she peed on a stick.  Perhaps she called you at work.  But now you know.  She's PREGNANT!

So, what do you do?  Run screaming for the hills?  Jump up and down in jubilation? Sit down with a stiff drink? Weep with joy?  Well it almost (note almost - the hills thing… not so good) doesn't matter what you think, say or do in that moment, but a top tip… let joy and jubilation be a major part of it! You're going to be a father.

How are you going to support your partner through this pregnancy?  And has your mind wandered towards the birth yet?  And then… oh yes… there's more.  What about when the baby is born?  Parenting!

Okay, one step at a time.  Pregnancy!

There is a temptation to Google and to Google a lot!  Try not to give in to it.  Find some good research based evidence.  And when you talk about birth and labour, try not to listen to the 'horror' stories.  Tell those people that you would love to hear their stories, but not until you have one of your own to share.  The guy at work will have lots to share.  You might not want to hear it all.

She may or may not have 'cravings' or like me.. just go off things.  It might involve the odd midnight dash to that particular bakery/deli/burger bar/bagel shop.  She may eat things that you never want to remember her eating.  Go with the flow my friend.  Make sure she eats, drinks and rests during her pregnancy.  She's not ill, but her body is working hard.

Don't ignore the antenatal classes.  Choose them together.  Go to one that keeps men in the breastfeeding sessions.  You need to know so that you can support her and be her gatekeeper.

Next step.  Birth!

It’s not as easy as it sounds.  Sometimes you'll need to step up and get on with the job at hand and not think about how squeamish you may or may not feel.   Sometimes people say “Well it’s not as if he had to do anything” but let’s think about what you do.  It’s a big job.  It can affect you physically and emotionally.  Whilst Mum is labouring away and not wanting to eat (and Mum should eat) you might feel that you can’t or shouldn’t.  Big mistake.  No one wants a partner who has passed out due to exhaustion and lack of food and water.  Be sure to look after your own needs (remember the oxygen on the aeroplane analogy).  Eat, drink, go to the bathroom.  Oh and when you eat, her sense of smell is heightened, be wise with your food choices.

Then she will want you to massage her, to touch her, to hug her, to kiss her and as you lean in and your hands make contact with her body she may wrench away from you and ask you in no uncertain terms what the hell you think you’re doing!  When she wants a massage you may feel that you’re tired, you just need a rest, but you know she needs you so you press on.  Then she tells you to stop and leave her alone and now you feel rejected.  Take it on a moment by moment basis.  It’s nothing personal.  What she appreciates most is your presence.  Your partner's strength during labour may surprise you, but you may also be confused by some of her reactions, which can include despair, irritability and even hostility. Keep your sense of humour but check your ego in at the door!

So what happens if she gets to place where she feels she can’t go on? 

Look her in the eye. This may help her refocus.  She’ll know that you care and that you are committed to this.  Keep your talking/jokes etc to a minimum.  Let her go into herself and into her “zone”.  Remember the thinking part of the brain closes off during labour and it becomes an instinctual, primeval thing.  A nice firm touch or massage, maybe a hug show her love and can warm her up if she’s cold and shivering.  When she gets to the point where she thinks she can't do any more, tell her you love her and you're proud of her and how amazing she is.  It's hard because all you may want to do is to grab as much pain relief for her as possible.

And the next step?  I'm going to talk about the days after the birth.

This is where you will come into your own. The Midwife will only come to visit a few times. The phone will ring, almost incessantly, as friends and family want to share your joy. But this is your time to allow yourselves to become a new family. Take time to make sure your partner goes back to bed. Make sure she is fed and watered. She will be tired and so food may not be something she thinks about too often.

She has done an amazing thing and your family has increased. Take time to enjoy them, but remember to look after yourself as well.  Send her to bed as often as you can. When the baby sleeps, she should sleep. new parents often worry about what will happen to the baby whilst they sleep. So, after sending Mum to bed, spend time holding your baby, or simply watching your baby sleep. Week six seems to be the peak of tiredness postnatally. If you ensure her to rest in the beginning, she is less likely to fall into total exhaustion. Encourage her to bank her rest. Make no decisions in the middle of the night.  

You are your family's gatekeeper. You may want to consider leaving a message on the answer phone letting people know that all is well and that you will call them back in a few days. Perhaps you might ask relatives to put off their visits until you have found your feet as a family. You can ask that family and friends bring food and tidy or take away the dishes. It's also worth considering having an" open afternoon/evening" where you invite everyone around for a couple of hours and lock the door behind them afterwards (don't forget to have someone on tidy up duty). Then when they are all gone, turn the phones off and go to bed.  Remember what you learned in the Breastfeeding class.  Encourage your partner, especially in the middle of the night when she's at her most vulnerable. Know when to call for help. Keep that list of breastfeeding support lines and Lactation Consultants in your phone and on the fridge. Whenever she sits down to nurse the baby(ies) make sure she has water. Put a plate of snacks beside her Massage her shoulders, tell her what a wonderful job she is doing. Protect her from anyone who tells her she can't do it, including your mothers.

As to the parenting... well only you two know how you want to raise your children. Everyone will have theories but only you two will know what works for you too. Look to your instincts.

Keeping abreast of the matter

I want to talk about a view boys have of breasts and how I feel it affects breastfeeding!  

This example that I'm about to share contains language I wouldn't ordinarily use, but in order for the story to sound 'right', I've had to keep the original phrase.

I read a story on a parenting forum about a woman breastfeeding in the local coffee shop.  There were many breastfeeding mums in that day.  Two young lads walked in and the first said, "Blimey mate, look at all them tits", to which the second lad said "Don't be silly mate, them's feeding tits, not w***ing tits'.

Now I've been thinking about this a lot just recently.  I have an 18 year old son (Number One Son) and a 7 year old son (Wee Weapon 2/Boy Child).  Getting Number One Son to 18 has been no easy task.  We have had talks about sex, pornography and all the relevant in between conversations.  So as you can imagine boys and breasts are something that I'm relatively familiar with and it seems to me that for some, the whole breast issue is a minefield.

I was out to dinner with some friends when one of them told me that she was concerned about the images that her son was seeing on my Facebook page.  Now as far as I remember, I had no nude shots on it and I'm reasonably sure that there are no "ooh drunken Doula not on call" shots.  Her concern was the amount of breasts that her 15 year old son was seeing on my page.  Now I've looked through my page/my wall/my links etc etc and I don't see anything perverted there.  And so of course the initial story flew back into my  head.  

There are a lot of sexual images out there for young boys (yes, I'm aware of the imagery for girls, but at the moment I'm talking boys… oh man, I'm going to have to write again on the subject of girls.  I have three girls!).  Young boys, old boys, men, all of us, have breasts thrust at us from every angle.  Want to advertise a car?  A nice buxom woman reclining on the bonnet should do the trick.  Want to advertise perfume?  Let's have a beautiful  young woman strip as she walks towards the camera.  Want to advertise aftershave?  A couple of squirts and women will throw their clothes off.  At least the Wonderbra ad was advertising bras and so one might reasonably expect to see bosoms.  Perhaps the "Hello boys" was little more than an invitation to 'dive right in' but hey, if we're going to advertise women's products to women, we must make sure that they will become more attractive to men.  And so, our little boys grow up knowing that 'tits and arse' are what they should expect and the idea that a woman's breasts might not primarily be there for a man's pleasure comes as a bit of a shock.  

Facebook, of course, does not help here.  Pretty much every day another account and/or page is deleted for 'obscene imagery'.  Pole dancing is fine.  Breast enlargement is fine.  In fact pretty much every image of breasts is fine until there is a baby nursing from them.  Comments from Joe Public aren't always good/kind/helpful.  Shock horror reverberates through people when they realise that a baby is about to be or is being fed.  Summer will be interesting.  All the spaghetti tops will be out, the low hips, low necklines and highly visible breasts.  There will be many photos on Facebook that will cause excitement and pleasure.  But a feeding baby, well that's really rather disgusting.  Imagine using the breasts as they were intended.  Feeding tits!

One of my very lovely twin mums

When Doula-lly went Dou-la-la!

There's a blog that I've been enjoying and she asked if I wanted to do a guest blog for her.  Well of course you know how much I have to say.  So I wasn't going to say no now was I? 


The blog is Dou-la-la and here is my guest post.  Once you've finished with that, why not browse through her blog and see what she has to say.  It's well worth it.


Happy Saturday people! 

Whizz pop bang! (A brave new world)

Isn't it funny how many gadgets we need to do our daily bits and pieces?  And how wonderful of Nestle to decide to help us out in an area where we clearly cannot manage.  No need to train Midwives in breastfeeding support, or to lead breastfeeding workshops.  No need for those pesky private antenatal classes where Mum might learn how to initiate and maintain breastfeeding.  No need for those Lactation Consultants, Breastfeeding Peer Supporters and Counsellors.

No no.  The kind and generous Nestle have decide to provide the first, ultimate, complete, nutrition device.  It will only set you back a zillion pounds/dollars/[insert currency] for the initial outlay and then those nifty, convenient little capsules will simply cost pounds/dollars/[insert currency] more than those bulky great tins.  I wonder of course if there is space on those teeny tiny capsules to remind the 'makers up' of this formula that the product is not sterile and therefore the water needs to be heated safely.  Of course they have been ever so kind as to provide water filters to prevent those nasty bacteria from entering the water.  Phew!  For a moment there I thought the freshly-made-up-at-the-touch-of-a-button formula might no longer be sterile… but… wait!  Let me think about that.  Just for a moment, a mere nanosecond.  Nope.  Still not working.  Definitely need to heat that water up to 70+ degrees.  Hmmm…. but this product promises formula made up and good to go in less than a minute.  <searches publicity photos for the cooling unit, sees none but assumes that the lovely Nestle will have taken care of that minor detail>

This world we live in is making us more and more dependant on the gadgets and gizmos.  I may reveal my age when I hark, with unashamed nostalgia and rose-tinted classes, back to the days of 'The Good Life'.  I confess.  I have been planning to grow my own veg for about 8 years now and as soon as the planning stage is over, I shall move straight into action.

But I do worry.  I worry that we leave our children the legacy of 'the button'.  Just push this button and that will happen.  Push the other and something else will happen.  Alongside 'the button' will be the pill.  Too fat?  Pop a pill.  Got Gestational Diabetes?  Pop a pill.  Got Morning Sickness?  Pop a pill.  Oh hang on, did that… Thalidomide anyone?  

It's all about making it easier.  I'm writing on a train, but I'm not using trusty pen and paper (train is far too jerky for that :excuses:).  I am using my laptop.  I can connect to the internet should I wish.  I could do an online shop and have the food delivered in time for my return home in a couple of days.  I could blog!  I have my smart phone in my lap.  I can Facebook and Skype and email and call.  It is all so easy now.  And there is the dichotomy.  I love that it is all so easy now.  I pooh-poohed the Smart phone.  Who needs the internet on their phones?  Why would you need access to your email? Please excuse me whilst I book a shopping delivery.  

I don't, however, understand how getting up out of my lovely warm bed in the middle of the night to hit a button would have made life easier for me.  It would still be cold in the kitchen and that wouldn't do.  I like the warmth of my bed too much.  It was one of the reasons why breastfeeding seemed the perfect choice for me.  My ultimate, complete, nutrition system, which pre-dates the BabyNes by Millennia, worked very well.  I remained in my warm and cosy bed, happily feeding my children.  

When we consider the forethought and benevolence of Nestle, we should try to remember that yes, it is being made easier for us.  Easier to fill their ever deepening coffers.  Easier for them to flout the WHO Code with our permission.  The late great Martin Luther King said "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.".  Are we happy to stand by and let it be or is it simply just a convenient thing for others and we shouldn't begrudge them the chance to make their lives easier?

Nestle, the great equaliser. Nestle see the poverty divide and makes a machine to ensure even the most affluent households can have unsafe baby formula.

Nestle's 'wonderful' new gadget

A glorious weekend

Most people that I know look forward to the long, bank holiday weekends.  We dream of the lie ins, the friends and family we'll see, the dancing we'll do, possibly even a barbecue or two (weather permitting).

This weekend was a tale of two births.  Almost two weeks ago one of my twin ladies gave birth by caesarean section as the presenting twin was breech.  Breastfeeding was nicely established and, despite the fact that I am there for postnatal support as well, they said they didn't need me.  Perfect!  I love what I do and I love it when my ladies don't need me.  So I was gently easing my way towards this weekend knowing that I had two ladies yet to birth.

Birth 1:

My client had had a caesarean section for her first baby.  Her waters had gone early and he wasn't ready to be born.  Long long labour.  Syntocinon given to help things along.  4 days after the waters, 1 tired mum, I tired dad, 1 tired Doula later... section. Gorgeous boy!



S hates hospitals.  So when she found out that she was pregnant again she wanted a homebirth.  The hospital were not keen, so after fighting for a while she decided to hire Independent Midwives.  Everything was wonderful.  She went into spontaneous labour as her waters broke on her EDD.  I arrived at about 6pm last Thursday.

The IMs were gorgeous.  We had met before be make sure we were all on the same page. 

 S was labouring beautifully in the water.  The IMs were reasonably sure that she was fully dilated.  She had the lovely purple line up her bottom.  But things were stalling.  So rest was called for.  Got her out of the pool and into bed.  Throughout the night we all tag teamed to get some sleep.

In the morning nothing had changed.  S was getting tired.  Baby was happy throughout.  In the end the decision to transfer in was made.  S opted straight for section.  The lovely Consultant explained that the baby's positioning meant he wasn't going to come out without help.  Her gorgeous son was born at 9.40am on Friday.



It wasn't an easy thing for S to have a caesarean once again, but I'm so proud of her.  She was so glorious in labour and though she wept at the thought of the section, she was strong and accepting.

I texted my next lady (who I had kept in the loop) to say that the baby was born and she should go for it.  She replied that she would give me a couple of days to recover from the first birth.

Birth 2:



On Saturday J called to tell me that she had woken with some twinges and some cramping but that all had gone quiet and she was going to get on with her day.  That evening she called to say that she was getting irregular contractions but that they were every half hour.  I sent her to bed.  I got a call at 10.30 on Sunday morning to tell me that she slept a bit but that she was still getting irregular contractions and could she do anything to hurry it up.  I told her to enjoy her Sunday and to wait because the baby would come when it was ready. 



Sunday evening I got a call around 6pm telling me that the contractions were every 5 mins thereabouts and that they were increasing in intensity and would I mind going over.  After I arrived, J relaxed considerably and things seemed to slow again.  I made sure that they had eaten and then told them to go to bed because it might be a long night and they needed their rest.  J went to bed around 10pm and P (her partner) faffed about for another hour and a half before eventually going to bed himself.  I pulled out the sofa bed and let myself drift off.

6.45am this morning P woke me.  I asked how the night went (I had woken periodically and not heard anything).  He said fine and that J was getting into the bath.  I went to see how she was doing.  She was rocking beside the bath and said "I need to get in now".  She got into the bath and her breathing changed.  J was a very vocal labourer/birther.  I reminded her that she could go to the hospital when she was ready and felt she needed to be in her birthplace.  She looked at me and said, "I don't think I can get out", then she closed her eyes and roared!  I asked P to call the Birthing Centre.

I spoke, evenutally, to the wonderful Belinda Green (Supervisor of Midwives) who asked me what I thought was happening.  (I have been at a birth with Belinda before).  I told her that I thought she was getting ready to push as she had strong poo-ing urges.  Belinda asked if she had poo-ed.  I said no, looking into the bath and said yes.  J roared again.  Belinda said it didn't sound like pushing noises but that if I thought she was close, we should go straight in.  Dad picked up the phone to call a cab.  J roared.  I looked between her legs.  Her labia was fully extended and I could see the tiniest bit of the baby's head.

 I called to dad "Hang up and call 999 NOW please" which he did and then he babbled to the controller.  I asked (rather firmly) for the phone and spoke to the controller who told me I had to drain the bath and then I had to put my hand at J's vagina and my other hand to support the head.  Meanwhile J was roaring and I told her to breathe.  The controller shouted to me "Are you listening to me? Don't listen to her, listen to me".  Then she told me to tell J to push as hard as she could.  Whilst all of this was going on, I was talking myself through birth in my head.

One half of me was calm.  'Remember, mums bodies are made to birth.  Just let it be.  If there's a cord, use your thumb.  Relax and be sure to take the baby head and face first out of the water (esp as it's draining away).  The other half of my head was screaming [add many many expletives].  My out loud voice said, "Relax J.  Good girl.  Fantastic.  Your baby is coming.".  I dropped the phone because, in fairness, the controller was doing my head in with her purple pushing directives.  J roared again and her baby slipped gently into my hands.  I turned her (yes Reader, it was a girl) and lifted her to her mother's abdomen.  The cord was short so she didn't go up very high.  A minute later a beautifully handsome paramedic arrived.  She was born a 7.19am.  J was glorious.

He was wonderful (not cos of his looks) and gentle.  He invited dad to cut the cord after it had stopped pulsating.  He was happy to do a physiological third stage.  All was calm.  The three other paramedics waited outside.  There was a shift change at the hospital but Mr Gorgeous went off to collect the Midwife.  She had not had her tea at home that morning because (as she told me) her boyfriend and flat mate had not replaced it.  She's gone into Sainsburys and as she came out she got a call to get to work quickly.  Mr Gorgeous met her at the door and brought her straight round.  She was gentle, kind and so so loving.  She was disappointed that J had to be transferred in for a retained placenta, but she gave it everything to see if they could stay home.  

As I said to my friend this morning, this job that I do makes me blessed amongst women.

When breastfeeding goes well but all goes wrong.

Today I spent time with a distraught mother.  She was distraught because two days ago she gave up breastfeeding.  It turns out that the baby had a posterior tongue tie and some cranial issues (tension in the neck and he's been a little compacted since birth).  She breastfed happily and well for six weeks.  Then she was told that his weight had plateaued and that she needed to feed him more because he wasn't growing as he should.  And so she began to worry.  She internalised her worry and as the stresses of life closed in (by which I mean the normal everyday stresses that have nothing to do with babies) she was told to ignore them and concentrate on feeding her baby.


She closed out the world and concentrated.  She saw Midwives, Lactation Consultants, Night Nurses, Doctors.  Eventually she went to see a Cranial Osteopath and he said "You've been at this long enough.  It's stressing you out.  You've done your best".  She accepts this as true.  She had stopped enjoying her baby and instead obsessed about feeding him.  In her words "breastfeeding [was] destroying [her]".  She cried as she told me that much as she had loved breastfeeding and how wonderful it was when it was good, she needed to be a normal person again.  She needed to go outside again and not worry that her son was being underfed.  And the whole time, her breasts poured milk.  


So much information, so much help.  How do we filter what is good from what is bad?  How do we help rather than hinder the Mums and Dads that come to us seeking advice?  Do we know when to hold back and simply hold them whilst they cry?  


I asked her how she felt about giving up breastfeeding, because I wanted to see if it was something that she had thought through.  She clearly thought I was about to persuade her back to breastfeeding.  She mounted her defence.  I wanted to be SuperDoula and help her find her way back, but I stopped asking questions and simply said "It's okay."


Inwardly, my heart broke.  The first time that I met her she was keen to breastfeed and she did so well.  When I left all was well.  Going back six weeks later the coin had flipped.  I don't know what happened to make it so.  I taught her how to hand express herself so that she could rid her engorged breasts of their milk and disperse the hard lumps that were forming in her breasts.  


I'm sure that there are those who will say that I should have pressed her harder to remain breastfeeding, but I am also sure that there are some who know when to stay silent and let things be.  It doesn't mean I'm not sad about it.