World Breastfeeding Week

Pablo Picasso
I have been meaning to write about "World Breastfeeding Week" but life got in the way.  That and I am always afraid of what others will say.  I am afraid of that person that will come to my blog and say "But my milk didn't come in"  or complain about "Breast-feeding Nazis" or woman who let their boobs hang out and jiggle them around in peoples face all in the name of breastfeeding.
And really I can't speak for those people, I can only speak for myself.
I loved breastfeeding my children.  I loved breastfeeding my toddlers.  If I was to have another child I would breastfeed them without a second thought.   Breastfeeding my children is one of my greatest accomplishments.  I am proud of myself.  Proud that I didn't give up, even when my breast were sore and hard.  That I didn't give up when thrush and fever exhausted my body. 
If I had it to do over I won't change a thing.  I loved the little moments.  Sometimes I sit with my children now, long past the stages of nursing, and they will rest their heads on my breast and my breast still ache.
I loved breastfeeding my children.  It is my hope and prayer that every mother is given the chance to nurse her child.  It is my hope that when my daughter goes to nurse her baby she will not be met with stares or judgment but met with love and total support.

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