Weaning off the breast doesn't have to be an all or nothing event and it also needn't be a conscious parent-led decision. If you and your baby are happy the way things are, then you may consider continuing to breastfeed until he or she decides that time's up and weans themselves naturally. On the other hand, if taking charge of the weaning process is the right decision for you, it's ideal to take it gradually and as gently as possible.
I never really thought of myself as someone who suffers from OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). I mean, I do weird things like never walk on the pavement cracks, run back to the kettle before it boils and clicks off and always have to beat the person walking behind me to the next lamp-post, but everyone does that right?
I had slumped down in a chair and was unaware of the commotion, as a swarm of doctors and midwives surrounded me and hoisted me up onto a bed. A short time later, I opened my eyes to find myself breathing through an oxygen mask and shaking uncontrollably. All I could hear repeatedly were the words, 'We need blood!'
That was seven years ago. I always felt that by now I would have had my three. That the gap would be smaller. That my family would be complete. And now on the verge of turning 40, I am beginning to have to question my younger self. If she was here now, this younger self of mine, I would be having quite a debate with her I can tell you!
Remember what we were like before our baby? Fun, spontaneous, up for a drink, probably awake? Well forget all that. We are now over-tired, under-fed, vaguely with it parentals. Yet you want to come and visit us, or have insisted we come to yours, anyway. To see the baby. I get it. Regardless of who is visiting who, you need to know the following...
I'm totally shocked and appalled at the proposals the CCG (Clinical Commissioning Group) has made to ban writing certain prescriptions for dairy free formula in some areas in the UK. If this had been brought in to place when Archie and Frankie were babies I know that we would not have been able to afford £608 a month in formula for Frankie's Neocate milk.
If he's making a bit of a racket and needs calming down, I plonk him in the box. If he's looking a bit bored and in need of stimulation, I place it in front of him and watch him pummel it with delight. If he's being a bit cheeky, I close the flaps over his head so he's cocooned inside, then whip them open a few seconds later to see his grinning face staring manically back at me.
I once imagined that having a baby would be a pretty romantic affair. I figured that we'd conceive this baby on holiday or following a candlelit meal. I fantasised about how I would tell my husband, maybe by wrapping the pregnancy test as a gift, or spelling out the news in Alphabetti Spaghetti on his plate.