A year ago, I nursed Westley for the last time.
I struggled so hard with breastfeeding. At first, because it was really difficult and painful and I had to wake Westley up to feed him. And later, because it made me feel anxious and trapped.
I could take him to [name of any number of places I might've gone]. But what if he needs to nurse?
It took me way too long to figure out that if you take the baby somewhere, and he needs to nurse, you just FIND A PLACE TO FUCKING NURSE HIM. And everything is FINE. (Especially if you have a husband who, while being a complete and total pacifist at any other moment, will happily kick the snot out of someone who gives a woman shit for nursing in public.)
I breastfed everywhere. In the fabric store. During brunch. At the doctor's office before, during, and after every single one of Westley's vaccine shots. In a moving car (just once!). One of my favorite memories is of wandering through the (now closed) Goddess Shoppe with a two-month-old baby happily chowing down at my breast.
At the time, I hated breastfeeding. I was miserable, wondering why I'd signed up for this gig. Of course, being a mammal, I hadn't really "signed up," per se. I just let my biology take me along for the ride, and I let it make me crazy. When Westley was teeny and refused to eat, I'd threaten him: "I'll show you. I'll nurse you 'til you're twelve." Sixteen months later, I was afraid I'd have to make good on that.
But no. (Thank goodness.)
Then, shortly after my breasts got the memo to stop making milk, something really strange happened. I decided the whole breastfeeding thing was pretty awesome. And furthermore, I sort of rocked for having stuck with it! I totally deserve a pat on the back (or the front, really).
Westley and I nursed for almost 2 years. A year post-weaning, I can finally say that I love breastfeeding.
hours old (minutes before I started crying)
(not quite) 3 months old
4 months old
9 months old
17 months old
19 1/2 months old
