I breastfed (discreetly of course) in every place you could imagine. On the back of scooters. In church. Even while walking along using the baby sling. It never cost me a thought. If people noticed and criticized me, I ignored them. None of their business. If they noticed and praised me for my 'sacrifice', I smiled graciously and asked 'what sacrifice?' What could be easier? No getting up in the night, no making up feeds, no dragging bottles along? As far as I was concerned, I'd chosen the better part.
One day my husband gave me a drop of whiskey in my evening glass of milk. I hardly ever drink, I must tell you. I had a great sleep that night and so did the baby. I took that whiskey again off and on, particularly if I'd had a tiring day. But I never did it when the baby was under six months old just to be on the safe side.
All my four kids fed until they were school age. They all remember feeding as toddlers. We have no regrets. It was a perfect choice for our family.
Maternal guilt - who needs it?
This post was inspired by Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop at the blog Mama’s Losin’ It. I looked at the current week’s prompts and got inspired by the third prompt “Mother's Guilt - Who Needs It?”.
This post first appeared on Write Away on WordPress on 23 July, 2010.