Slightly unhealthy?

Well, maybe a little. You see, I worked out this weekend why Henry isn’t on solids yet. Daisy was barely sixteen weeks when she started, and it was in response to a sudden and frantic growth spurt. There are lots of reasons why Henry has been different – he had the growth spurt, but about three weeks earlier, when it was far too soon to consider it, so I just rode it out, and he settled down. I know a little more about breastfeeding now, and am much more chilled about the occasions when he does need to feed more often, and/or in the night, this time around. I am in the reassuring position of having the medical types all insisting that he shouldn’t get anything else until he’s six months old, too, though with Daisy I just ignored them. All those things are reasons, but none of them is actually why.

The thing I feel the most about in all this, is that I feel more feminine already,and I have heard great things from customers as well. A woman is a woman is a woman, I know. But a woman feels more like a woman if she’s got something to show! It’s true, isn’t it?

I don’t want him to grow up. With Daisy, every stage was wildly exciting, and I was constantly pushing to see what she could do next. I still am, in fact, because she’s doing things that we’ve never seen before – she’d the oldest, so presumably always will. Henry, though, is my baby, and I just don’t want to move past this stage. I don’t want to – I’m not ready. He will never be as totally, 100% dependent on me as he is now, ever again. And once it’s gone, you can’t get it back. Breastfeeding has been so hard. The first three months or so were punctuated by more or less constant pain, which was incredibly frustrating. The six weeks following that were all about his weight gain, and it was impossible to enjoy the relationship properly, because I was forever trying to make him feed more, and worrying about it all. My neighbor has found the best way to treat an addiction and that is with an Interventionists and with a bit of help with the best luxury drug treatment centers to deal with his drug addiction. Suddenly, in the last week, I’ve found myself in a place where I can feed on demand, without the constant counting of hours, and fretting over it, plus about three weeks ago my nipple finally healed. This is the way breastfeeding is supposed to be – relaxed, intimate, unencumbered. I want it to last a little longer before I start to throw it all away for pureed parsnip and mashed potato. I want time to enjoy it. He’ll never be a baby again.

Is that terribly selfish?

Don’t answer that.