Two Years And Beyond
Well, I’ve done it.
I’ve breastfed Moo to the World Health Organisation recommended age of two. Sure, she’s had some formula along the way, but hey, it ain’t poison. It’s been a shitty two years, I’ve been so tested, but I’ve done the best I can scientifically and biologically do for Moo, I’ve given her natures finest gourmet food.
I’ve pumped for at least 20 minutes a day for two years. Most of those days I will have spent at least two hours pumping. Some days have been spent almost constantly attached to a pump. I’ve had approximately 24 prescriptions of Domperidone. I’ve got through two breast pumps. My dear husband has washed thousands of bottles. I’ve spent night after night listening to the buzzing and watching the flashing of a pump. I’ve pumped in cars, toilets and in Paris. I’ve had mastitis more times than I can remember. I’ve frantically google searched for information on increasing supply, cried to midwives, health visitors and lactation consultants. My friends and family have listened to hour upon hour of me moaning about the same damn things. But I’ve done it.
A huge two fingers to those who told me that ‘mastitis was my body’s way of telling me to stop’, that I’d ‘done good enough’, that it was ‘ok to give up’. I’ve been failed by health care professionals and a society that relies too heavily on the accessibility and ease of formula. All I’ve had to rely on was my own determination. I’ve done myself proud, seeing as I’m usually one to give up when the going gets tough. I should thank society for seeing ‘extended’ breast feeding as weird, thank the doctors for the shitty advice, because it made me even more damn sure that I kept ploughing on.
My daughter is two. Yes, I’m still breastfeeding. No, I don’t plan to stop any time soon.