This evening I opened my last jar of pregnancy/breastfeeding tablets - by the time I finish the jar, the baby will be one year old and on to cows milk.
Before she was born, I had some fear that she wouldn't be able to breastfeed - or more accurately, that I wouldn't be able to breastfeed her. That something wouldn't work properly and it would just be a struggle. And she was fine. We've been so lucky to have come this far without any problems - no blocked ducts, no grazing, no biting to draw blood, nothing.
When she first started breastfeeding, I was sure I would feed until she bit. She would have three chances, and only three, then she would be DONE. Of course, that didn't stop us either (although not for want of trying!).
In the same way that my thoughts or plans haven't played out, who knows what will actually happen.
But while I enjoy being needed and I like the extra excuse to sit and cuddle her, I don't think that I will miss the struggle as she stretches back when she's not really feeling like it, or being the one to (almost) always doo her night time routine because of that one crucial step, or those moments when she stops and lays there with it in her mouth and I tense up as I wait to see if she's going to bit or not...
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