and because I’m a keener… and will probably forget to do it tomorrow, I am posting THIS:

*fanfare flourish*

The fun of it is that you have to GUESS who I pollinated with!! squeeeeeee!! Have a go in the comments- and if you get it right… you get nothing… except maybe my admiration. And a gold star on my chart of awesomeness. 😛

So… without further ado, here is the post.


Boobs. They’re not always just for men’s magazines, after all.

Hi, I’m a mystery blogger who shall remain temporarily nameless, and today I am itching to share a fact.

It turns out that breasts also make this stuff called milk.

Okay, so mostly. In an ideal world, they’d all swap from ‘Ralph front-page cleavage with big blue veins on’ to ‘moo’ the very moment we gave birth, but in the real world it doesn’t always go quite like that.

We all know that ‘breast is best’. We all hear the mantra. Almost every single one of us who is fortunate enough to become a parent, especially after infertility wants their body to do SOMETHING right. For many of us, our cans co-operate.

But that isn’t the end of the story.

Breastfeeding rates don’t lie. While 90ish percent leave hospital ‘breastfeeding’ (a fact I question in these heady days of discharging women before milk has even come in), by the time a baby is six months old it’s less than half.

So what happens? Why aren’t we all blissfully gazing into a happy baby’s nuzzling face while our perfectly un-bleeding nipples produce the goods?

Are so many of us lazy? Bad mothers?

I would disagree.

It is true that some of us just can’t, and even the most militant Booby types concede that number is about one in twenty. I had the dubious honour of becoming one of that number.

But again, the rates say it all. Plenty more of us stop and I refuse to believe it’s because we’re all lazy cows who want their tits back in something that doesn’t unfasten itself in the supermarket and show your breast pad to half of the queue in front of you before you correct the problem.

If you’re reading this and you had an easy transition to breastfeeding, you don’t know how lucky you are. It’s so loaded emotionally and hard for us flunkers to discuss with you.

Society is on your side.

Put simply, usually it doesn’t come easy. It’s NOT natural or instinctive. Often, it’s damn hard at best. Even worse, many of us have never seen it done before we’re expected to know all about a ‘good latch’, or a ‘football hold’ by simple virtue of creating life. Breastfeeding isn’t something we talk about in more than vague generalities and so it’s no wonder that so many women aren’t aware the baby ISN’T meant to chomp down on the nipple until you’re cracked and bleeding.

All of that aside, all of us do the best we can for our babies and we damn well try. But at the end of the day when your nipples are bleeding, you’ve got mastitis AGAIN, you’re borderline bleeping psychotic after four weeks on two hours sleep because you can’t let down for the pump to get a break and you think you might want to throw your baby rather than let them take to your sensitive bits with their oral cheesgrater in two hours time, sometimes enough is enough.

And that’s okay. Really, it’s understandable. You are not bad, evil or a failure.

Let’s be honest. Really honest. No matter what anybody says about muss, fuss and equipment, bottle feeding has its place.

And sometimes, do forgive me boob-police for uttering these words, that’s not such a sin.

There, I said it.

It’s not so evil to bottle feed if you have to.

Yes, there are exceptions, and YES, breast is the best if you can, but if your kid has asthma in ten years time and you bottle fed, it doesn’t mean you should flagellate your tits for failing you. They probably would have got it anyway, and life isn’t so black and white as the papers would have you believe.


This one goes out to all the flunkers, failures, thrushers, mastitisers, bleeders, biters and plain old exhausteders who want to reclaim ownership of their nipples. This one’s for you.

It’s okay that you stopped.

You tried. End of story.

Don’t beat yourself up about it any more than you have already. Don’t feel you can’t mention your mode of feeding in public for fear of judgement.


It isn’t any of their damn business.

Conversely, if you’re one of the fortunate enough to be able to breastfeed and do it well, talk to a sister who could use the tips. demystify. Explain.

HELP. There are plenty of women who could use it.


Don’t be an ass, either. Plenty of us make the mistake that simple information means everything will work- I have degrees that taught me clever things about prolactin, lactiferous ducts and oxytocin. I could bore for my nation on lactation (when I’m not spending my time merely rhyming badly). My boobs didn’t get the memo.

Just understand that you were one of the lucky ones. Be gentle.

And remember, the next time you see a woman using the dreaded formula-word, any negative comment you might have, no matter how pointed, well there isn’t a damn thing you could say to her that that woman probably hasn’t said to herself already.

You can’t make her feel any worse than she already does.

Every mother does the best she can for her children with the resources she had at the time. End of debate.

Peace out, world.

Now, if you’ve given a shot at guessing… you may go here to find out who my mystery poster is. 😛