Pic: A very close up Ambrosia.
In October, I will stop breastfeeding Ambrosia.
She will be 14 months and two weeks.
I thought I could feed her a bit longer than this. But the flow had been steadily decreased over the last couple of months. I’ve tried food, massage, or breast bump; none of them could bring them back.
No, I am not frustrating or anything. This is my body telling me: “It’s about time”. Compare to Horatio’s 11 months, which was stopped due to me having to return to work, this is really good. There is something good coming out of me being redundant, after all.
I think I am going to miss this (from the opinion poll I conducted lately, chances of us having another bub is very slim, no matter how much I personally wanted another one).
Thoughts gone through my head at top speed, some positive, some negative. Before I knew it, three long pages’ whining and bitching about why on Earth would people don’t want to breastfeeding their babas and why some members of the public sees breastfeeding in front of them is a ‘disgusting’ thing had jumped out of my fingertips.
No, no, this is not right. Quickly hit the ‘delete’ button.
What others behave is not my problem.
I like this. It is such a wonderful thing, being able to enjoy this unique experience.
One of the privileges of being a mother, let me assure you.
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