The day my baby had to take antibiotics, I had sleepless nights. I want to share a happy photo with you too, to show the other side of the story — I’m not ashamed of it, because shame can play far too big a role in how we raise our children. My baby is healthy and happy for as long as that lasts, and if that were simply the norm, as people claim it is, I’d have no reason to post this at all.
Too often I notice people underestimating #breastfeeding. As an African woman who has really only ever relied on it, I know better. I’m grateful that even at 40 I can still breastfeed, and that I’ve been able to give it to all three of my children. Imagine if that hadn’t worked out for me — there would certainly have been other paths, closer to how I feel. But nothing beats this.
It keeps making me think: how would I have handled it if my children had gotten sick often? Especially hearing how many other babies and toddlers pick up infections, some of them perhaps unnecessarily. If the school ever calls to say my child isn’t feeling well — we’re not there yet, thankfully, but one thing is certain: my first two have reached their current age without ever needing heavy medication. They haven’t been seriously ill so far. I keep hoping it stays that way, though of course none of us can ever say never.
I’m not saying the other path isn’t healthy too, but #breastfeeding adds an extra layer of confidence in our family, one that makes us braver with our children.
