Wednesday, 15 February 2012

NINO: Nine in, nine out.

I'm not sure why, BabyB-B, but I was so excited when you reached your NINO.  To me it seemed such a fun concept to celebrate your being Earth side for as long as you had been inside.  It made me reflect on the ups and downs of my pregnancy, your birth and these first nine months of your life.

Finding out I was pregnant with you was one of the most thrilling moments of my life.  It was with nervous anticipation that I said to your father, "Guess what?!".  He seemed equally nervous when he replied, "You're pregnant." We hugged and both laughed.  We couldn't be happier.  I spent my pregnancy terrified something would happen to you.  This was not helped when I experienced some early bleeding and resorted to "Dr Google" for a diagnosis when an early dating ultrasound was inconclusive.  A few weeks later a viable pregnancy was confirmed and I vowed never to consult Dr Google again!!

I willed you to be safe in the confines of my body.  I was strangely relieved when struck with the urge to vomit (often day and night) as each wave of nausea confirmed in my mind my pregnancy.  The morning sickness eventually got old and I drew comfort from feeling you move inside me:  first flutters and then full blown feisty kicks and punches!  Towards the end of my pregnancy I would play with you - gently pushing your foot when it jutted out and waiting for you to push my hand back.

At 41 weeks I was definitely ready to meet you.  I'm not a patient person at the best of times and having found out I was pregnant at four weeks it seemed like I had been pregnant for an extremely long time.  I was dismayed when Michelle, the midwife I had seen for most of my pregnancy, told me that my cervix was closed tight and there was little chance of anything happening any time soon.  I was booked in to be induced the following week. As if knowing how much I wanted to avoid an induction you decided it was time to come, in your own time, and after some 27 hours of active labour you made your entry to the world to my favourite Tibetan incantations.

I was ill prepared for the wave of feelings that would wash over me when you were born.  Overwhelmed is the word that probably best describes it.  I was overwhelmed by the responsibility, the enourmity, and, most of all, the love.  Nobody can understand the strength of a mother's love until they themselves become a mother.  It is a love that grows and deepens daily.

Every day over the last nine months my love for you has grown.  Each day you light up our lives and fill our hearts with joy.  Happy NINO baby girl xxx

Friday, 27 January 2012

Finding my voice

No, I'm not going to tell you all about how BabyB-B loves my renditions of "Twinkle, Twinkle" (although she does).  I'm talking about finding my voice when faced with unwanted advice and opinions and some not so helpful comments.

When I fell pregnant I really was not prepared for the advice, opinions and comments I would receive from just about anybody that I encountered.  The quickest way to irritate me was to try to guess the sex of the baby based on how I was carrying, the pallor of my skin and even the size of my rear end!  It drove me crazy.  I remember explaining to my mother-in-law that it is not appropriate to comment on a pregnant woman's size.  Ever.  Even if you think you are giving a compliment.


I na├»vely thought things would get better once I had the baby.  Oh how wrong I was.  It turns out that the advice, opinions and comments you are freely giving while you are pregnant are just the warm up for the barrage you receive from the minute your baby leaves the confines of your uterus.  Everybody has something to say.  Most of the time the advice is well meaning.  Often times the comments are intended to be harmless.  The opinions, well, everybody's got one.  

In those first few weeks of motherhood I sat stunned while advice was offered on everything from my nipples to the content of BabyB-B's nappies.  I tried to take it all in, digest it, follow it all.  After all, these people knew what they were talking about.  They were mothers themselves (they often reminded me of this with a comment along the lines of "it worked for me and my kids came out alright") so of course they knew what they were talking about.

The most difficult thing about being a first time mother is learning to trust yourself, to trust your intuition and to trust that you know your baby best.  In the first few weeks and months I tended to think just about everybody else knew better.  This wasn't helped by tentacles of PND which caused me to doubt just about every thought I had.  I questioned everything I did despite DaddyB-B assuring me that I knew best.

However, there came a point when the fog cleared.  I finally felt the seeds confidence planting themselves.  I was no longer happy to sit there meekly taking in all the advice and opinions offered to me.  So instead of removing her cardigan when I was told by a female relative that BabyB-B was too hot I responded that BabyB-B was fine and not affected by her menopausal hot flush.  Rather than feel chastened when told by an acquaintance that BabyB-B really should be sleeping longer during the day and in her own cot I responded that BabyB-B sleeps as much as she needs and that attachment style parenting is finding more and more favour these days.  

I can battle the advice and opinions head on.  When I don't agree with what is offered the litigator in me often comes out and I happily enter into hearty and, I hope, respectful debate. It is the comments that still get to me.  Some of the comments aren't so well meaning and I haven't worked out how to respond to them.  They are often couched in condescension.  My efforts are met with comments along the lines of, "Just wait until she hits the terrible twos" or "It's easy now, while you only have one child, wait until you have another".

Then there are the comments that touch on my mental health.  These really get me.  There is usually some reference to how I am (or am not) "coping".  My Parent Support Unit nurse put it really well, "It seems some people aren't willing to let you heal and move on from this."

The discovery of my mothering confidence seems to have made some people uncomfortable, it saddens me that they can't just be happy for me and accept that doing things our way works for us.  I have found my voice when it comes to unwanted advice and opinions so I'm sure I will find it in relation to such comments too.

I have always been quite open about my PND.  However, I will not be defined by it.  I hoped that by addressing it and speaking about it other mothers will know that it is ok and not the taboo it may once have been.

Monday, 26 December 2011

We're all going on a Summer holiday

We are heading off up the Coast for a little Summer break and I'm nervous.

This is not the first time we have been away with BabyB-B.  When she was just five months old we did three weddings, over three consecutive weekends, in three States.  Those were short breaks and, save for one, we were in our own accommodation and left to our own devices.  This time we will be sharing accommodation at each stop.  This is why I'm nervous.

First stop:  Mum's house.  I'm least worried about this stop.  We spent a weekend there when BabyB-B was just eight weeks old.  Mum had lovingly set up a sleeping space for her granddaughter in my old bedroom.  However, I had other ideas.  BabyB-B would be sharing my sister's old room with us.  Mum was none too pleased about the idea, but went along with us.  Last week Mum called me to ask whether BabyB-B would be sharing a room with us again and offered us her larger bedroom for this purpose.  I'm not exactly sure how the sleeping arrangements will work out while we are there.  It will either be BabyB-B in the room with us, or me and BabyB-B in my old bed.  No matter how it goes I'm confident that Mum will go along with what we decide to do.

My Mum has constantly surprised me on my parenting journey thus far.  While I was pregnant with BabyB-B she constantly referred to the "good little routine" my sister had her son on from about four weeks of age.  This played no small part in forming my thoughts that this was what you were meant to do with babies.  If you've read this blog you will know that this is not really how I've chosen to go with BabyB-B.  Instead, we follow her rhythm.

I've discussed many of my parenting ideas with Mum.  She knows how I feel about controlled crying/crying it out and she said it wasn't for her either, she's on board with baby led weaning and is definitely from the breast is best school of thought.  I now believe that her references to my nephew's good little routine was said in support of my sister's choices.  She frequently tells me that whatever we are doing she can tell we are doing the right thing by how happy and relaxed BabyB-B is.  Following our discussions I know that she supports me in the parenting choices we have made with BabyB-B even if she doesn't necessarily agree with all of them.  

Next stop:  holiday house with friends.  Four couples, two children, one house.  My anxiety level raises slightly when thinking about this stop.  Don't get me wrong, I cannot wait to spend a few days with some of our best friends.  I'm just a bit nervous about the reception our parenting style will receive.

One of the couples coming along has a toddler.  They are far more experienced than we are at this whole parenting caper.  They've been doing it for a while longer than us and they have given us much well meaning advice.  This is why I'm worried - I have chosen to follow not much of it.  I am expecting a big fat "I told you so" when BabyB-B is rocked and fed to sleep at night.  I was cautioned not to fall in to this trap when she was only a couple of weeks old.  I am cautious as to how this soothing to sleep method, my sensitivities to her crying, her sensitivities to napping and our BLW will be received.  At the end of the day these people are our friends and I know that any advice is given with the best of intentions.  I just have to remember to have the confidence to stand up for our decisions.

Last stop:  serviced apartments with the in-laws.  Two apartments, three children, seven adults.  My anxiety level skyrockets at the thought of this one.  My track record on family holidays with the in-laws is not great.  DaddyB-B is the youngest of three boys.  The eldest brother is based in LA, is single and has come home to visit. The middle brother is based here, is married with a five year old daughter and a two and half year old son.  My parents-in-law thought it would be lovely to have a family holiday while their eldest son is in town.  There are a lot of personalities to fit in to two small apartments.  (Not least of all my own, which seems to have become stronger since the arrival of BabyB-B -picture mama bear and cub!)

My brother-in-law and his wife parent quite differently to DaddyB-B and I.  They also permit quite a different level of grandparent involvement when it comes to the children.  This makes me quite nervous as DaddyB-B and I are not content to let his parents just take over.  We are happy for them to enjoy their granddaughter.  That is what grandparents should do.  However, we prefer to remain in control (well as in control as you can be with an almost eight month old).  Cue personality clashes!

DaddyB-B and I have had many discussions about the differing parenting styles between us and his brother and sister-in-law.  I suspect we will probably dance our way around many of the issues.  I am yet to think of an appropriate response when faced with the "when you have two" type argument.

Recent events have made it clear that DaddyB-B's parents aren't quite as across our parenting style as we thought.  For instance, my mother- in-law is not at all comfortable with BLW and my father-in-law still likes to park BabyB-B in front of the television (my strong no TV for under twos stance is not shared by the rest of the family).  There also seems to be a minor obsession with how often BabyB-B wakes throughout the night.

In all honesty I probably sparked the obsession after recounting to my mother-in-law a discussion I had with a nurse when I was feeling particularly exhausted.  BabyB-B had been waking more frequently than usual and I was told that she was at an age where she could probably be resettled without the breast.  The nurse was at pains to emphasise that she wasn't suggesting CC or CIO be used.  Rather, she was suggesting DaddyB-B give her a bit of a cuddle to see if that would work (it doesn't).  Anyway, there is now an intense interest in the frequency of BabyB-B's night wakings.  DaddyB-B and I now deflect questioning on this subject.  However, this will be difficult to do when we are all under the same roof!

I truly hope that none of the scenes I am playing in my mind play out during the course of our Summer holiday.  I hope I am worrying about nothing.  There's just this sneaking feeling that I am not.  Watch this space!

No matter what comes to pass, I am determined that DaddyB-B, BabyB-B and I will enjoy our first family Summer holiday.

Saturday, 24 December 2011

Carols or Candles?

Dressed up to go to shul on Rosh Hashanah
We are a blended family.  DaddyB-B is Jewish.  I was raised nominally Anglican.  I decided to convert to Judaism and BabyB-B will be raised Jewish.  I have no problem with this; it was, after all, my idea.  During Pesach I happily give up chametz (leavened foods), I wish others shana tova over Rosh Hashanah, I fast on Yom Kippur and I truly love the Shabbat services at our synagogue.  On a daily basis I try to adopt Jewish practices and ideals.

Then we get to Christmas time.  Christmas time is one of my fondest childhood memories and I just cannot give it up.  Growing up I hated my birthday, the story of Easter troubled me greatly and father's day was fraught what with my totally absent father.  However, my memories of Christmas are happy:  making steamed pudding with my Grandma; watching Carols By Candlelight on Christmas Eve, my Mum setting up a trampoline in the vacant lot next door; Santa leaving bicycles under the tree; opening presents with my cousins; feasting on Turkey with all of the trimmings, ham and pork with crackling (the now forbidden traif), followed by our homemade pudding and a particularly sherry soaked trifle; my Bestefar's mischievous laugh when one of the adults fell foul to his Norwegian Akevitt.  Christmas when I was growing up was not about the events that took place in a manger in Bethlehem; it was about family, being together and having fun (with a tree and Santa thrown in for good measure!).

As much as I fully adopt Judaism, I can't help but feel that to give up Christmas would be to turn my back on my happy memories and the one major tradition in my family.  At Christmas time, since my relationship with DaddyB-B commenced, I have endured Santa being labeled "disgusting" (and not in the sitting children on the lap of a strange old man sense) and the insistence that "the 'C' word" (no, not the four letter one, "Christmas") not be uttered in front of certain people.  It seems that for some Christmas brings out a distinct lack of tolerance and understanding.  So at this time of year things get a bit, well, interesting to say the least.  There always seems to be a level of simmering tension in the air while the big, fat, tinsel covered elephant in the room is ignored.  This was easy enough to deal with before the arrival of BabyB-B.

In her "haute couture" Chanukah dress
This year we enter uncharted territory.  For the first time my family-in-law has had to deal with one of the children celebrating a holiday that is non-existent to the others.  The answer to this was to celebrate, for the first time, Chanukah.  In years gone by DaddyB-B and I have marked the eight nights of Chanukah by lighting our chanukiah.  Aside from the lighting of candles in our home nothing was done to mark Chanukah.  There were no latkes, no dreidels and no jam donuts (I was always a bit disappointed by this - particularly last year as one of my biggest pregnancy cravings was jam donuts!).  Until this year.  Last night our usual fortnightly Shabbat meal with DaddyB-B's family was also the beginning of a new family tradition.  We gathered together and ate latkes, gambled for chocolate gelt by spinning dreidels, ate far too many jam donuts and the children happily tore open various exciting Chanukah gifts.  It's a tradition I'm happy to embrace, but it will not replace Christmas on our calendar.

All dressed up for her first Christmas party
at the Royal Hospital for Women
It has been put to me many times that by celebrating Christmas we will be confusing BabyB-B.  How can she be Jewish but still celebrate Christmas?  She's not going to know whether she is Arthur or Martha.  The presence of a tree in our home, the taking of photos with Santa and the family feast on Christmas day are going to put her in to a state of flux! I have thought a great deal about this issue.  How will we reconcile Christmas appearing on the calendar to our Jewish daughter?

In my mind the easiest and most logical way to explain it to her is also the most honest way. When BabyB-B is old enough to understand she will be told that Mummy was not born Jewish and that she grew up celebrating Christmas with a tree, Santa, presents and, most importantly, a festive meal (minus the traif) with family and friends.  And even though Mummy is now Jewish, her family is not and they still celebrate Christmas.

So BabyB-B, we will celebrate the holidays our way, in the hope that you will grow up understanding and having compassion towards the different cultures and traditions that exist side by side in the country of ours.  You will get candles and carols.  




Saturday, 17 December 2011

When People Know Better

I'm a first time mum.  I have my "L" plates on.  I've never done this before, but I'm trying to do my best.  I don't take any of the parenting decisions that DaddyB-B and I have made lightly.  In fact, I've usually spent many hours labouring over most of them.  I don't expect everybody to agree with the decisions we have made, but I do expect people to respect them.  Even the mummy who knows better.

I thought most people were aware of the parenting style we have adopted.  In particular I thought our views on controlled crying/crying it out were pretty clear.  I've lost count of the number of times over the last seven months I have said that we do not leave BabyB-B to cry.  Recent events suggest to me that we have not been clear enough on this issue.

A couple of weeks ago DaddyB-B and I had a party to go to.  The invitation stipulated that babysitters were a must.  The thought of going out without BabyB-B filled me with some (ok, a lot of) anxiety.  It just was not sitting well with me.  However, DaddyB-B is keen for me to get used to the idea of leaving her in short bursts before I have to return to paid work next year.  So we enlisted a babysitter we know loves and cares for BabyB-B to sit with her while we were out.

I fed BabyB-B to sleep before we left for the party and settled her in to her cot.  I came out in to the lounge room and explained to the babysitter that there was a bottle of expressed milk on the counter that could be given to BabyB-B in her sippy cup should she wake while we were out.  DaddyB-B told me he had already explained everything so I didn't go in to anything further other than to say there was no need to heat the milk as room temperature was fine.  And so we left for the party.

It got to 10pm and I started to get quite antsy.  Although we had left milk for BabyB-B I much preferred to be home for her feed.  She doesn't take a bottle and we hadn't tried the sippy cup with milk before.  We'd had a great time hanging out with our friends in full Star Wars regalia (did I mention there was a theme?), but it was getting late!  We said our "goodbyes" and made our way home.

While DaddyB-B was parking the car in the garage I made my way to the front door of our building.  I could hear crying and knew immediately it was BabyB-B.  I impatiently told DaddyB-B to hurry up.  We came inside and I looked down the corridor.  The lights were out and I thought, "Ok, they've got her in the lounge room.  It's not the end of the world."  Then I looked to my right and saw the babysitter standing outside BabyB-B's bedroom door.  She gave me a look that said to me, "She's a fighter, but I'll get her to sleep."  It dawned on me that BabyB-B was in there, alone, crying.  I was stunned.  Even now I can see myself racing past her and in to the room, reaching in to the cot and cradling a sobbing BabyB-B in my arms.  I'm not sure who was more upset, me or my baby.

I immediately sat down and fed BabyB-B.  Her sobbing turned to whimpering and I sat quietly listening to the conversation taking place in the lounge room.  The babysitter explained to DaddyB-B that BabyB-B woke up, she let her cry for 10 minutes, went in and "shushed" her, let her cry for five minutes, gave her a bit of a pat, then left her again.  That is when we came home.  She commented that BabyB-B "really fights it, she waves her arms and legs around like she really wants to get out."  She started apologising to DaddyB-B who told her it was ok.  I slowly filled with white hot rage.

After I settled BabyB-B back to bed and the babysitter had left I went in to the kitchen to discover the full bottle of milk sitting next to an empty sippy cup.  DaddyB-B and I then debriefed.  He said that he didn't think he made it clear enough that we don't leave BabyB-B to cry.  I told him be that as it may, we had made it clear enough that if she woke to try to give her some milk.  It was late and we went to bed.  I didn't get much sleep that night.  I played our homecoming over and over and over in my mind.  I cannot explain how upset I was (and still am) by what we came home to.  I was at a complete and utter loss as to why the babysitter had decided controlled crying was more appropriate than some milk and a cuddle.

It finally dawned on me that the babysitter had taken the approach she had because she thought she knew better.  After all, she has raised three children "and there's nothing wrong with them".  How do you deal with the mother who knows better?

Although well meaning, a lot of the time the mother who knows better feels the need to impart her "wisdom" with a healthy dose of smugness.  There's the friend who told me when BabyB-B was only a couple of weeks old that by letting her sleep in my arms I was spoiling her.  Her own child was never allowed to sleep in her arms so I'm unsure what made her an authority on the issue.  Then there is the mother of two children.  She tells me that it's all very well and good to do what I'm doing with one baby, but when I have another I won't be bothered.  Or the mother of older children who cautions me to "just wait until BabyB-B can speak back".

Until now I have sat back and let these comments wash over me.  I nod while taking the opportunity to work on my enigmatic smile.  I spent my days before child advocating what was best for my client often against lawyers with far more experience than I had.  I wasn't afraid to speak up.  Why should this be any different?  I have now learnt the hard way that these moments are when I should be advocating for my parenting style and what I know to be best for my child and my family lest there be any misunderstanding that I know best.

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

When Parenting Styles Collide

A couple of years ago we had lots of friends getting married.  It was that time of our lives.  Now we've got lots of friends who have had (or are having) babies.  Call it natural progression.  Some of these people have been our friends for years.  Others we've met more recently.  We've shared many memorable and great times with these people.  We have our common interests and our differences.  This is what makes our friendships so rich.  So what happens when you mix friendship and parenting styles?

I am by nature driven by a thirst for knowledge and learning.  I want to know the how and the why so I'm interested in reading differing views and I'm open to having my position challenged.  These are all commendable traits in a lawyer, but, it seems, not so commendable in a mummy and a friend.  I frequently share articles that I find interesting, thought provoking and challenging via social networking.  A couple of weeks ago I shared an article that I stumbled across on Evolutionary Parenting.  This got me in to a bit of trouble with some friends. What was an interesting and thought provoking article for me was a slap in the face to them.  I did not intend to hurt, upset or insult my friends by posting it, but that is what happens when parenting styles collide.  It left me thinking, "Where to from here?"

Differing parenting styles and decisions need not spell the end of a friendship.  As DaddyB-B frequently says, "Everybody will raise their children differently".  It is how we address, accept and learn from these differences that is important.  Just because people do things differently does not mean they are doing it wrong.  After all, the concept of "wrong" is largely subjective.  What is wrong to me may be perfectly acceptable and logical to others.  Likewise, what I deem to be perfectly natural and sensible may feel completely wrong to them.  We can all learn something from each others differences.

When parenting styles collide it becomes a balancing act between respect for others and their decisions and the desire to share and discuss information.  Friendships can be preserved when differences are approached with sensitivity and tact.  This does not mean complete self-censorship, it means consider how you would feel if the shoe were on the other foot and it was your parenting decisions being questioned.  Sometimes saying nothing and just going about your business is more powerful than any than any article you could share or conversation you could have.   

The balancing act reminds me of a question posed by Sausage Mama on the SMATS Facebook page a couple of months ago.  The question (and I am paraphrasing with great liberty here) was whether you prefer people to nod and smile at your parenting style, even if they do not agree with it, or to argue with you in relation to it?  My response was that I would prefer people did not nod and smile and did not argue.  Rather, I would prefer that people freely discuss with me my parenting style but ultimately accept that my parenting decisions are decisions DaddyB-B and I have made after careful consideration of the information available to us, the circumstances of our family and, above all, what we believe is best for BabyB-B.  I am open to discussion but I expect our decisions to be treated with respect.  If this is what I expect it is only fair that this is what I am willing to give.

Having said all of this, I am not sure that I could treat with respect something that I found completely repugnant.  Fortunately I have not found myself in a position where my friends' parenting styles differ so greatly from mine as to enter such territory.  While I feel passionately about breastfeeding and BLW, I respect that some of my friends have chosen formula over breast and "traditional" weaning over BLW.  Frankly, it is really none of my business how others choose to feed their babies (although I would have something to say if they were shoving McDonald's down their children's throats!).  It's hardly repugnant.

Coming back to the incident of the article, my friend and I worked it out.  We had a long chat, spilled some tears, agreed to disagree and our friendship is intact and as strong as ever.  I also removed the article from my personal Facebook page.  I didn't remove it as an admission of wrongdoing.  I removed it as a sign of respect for my friend because at the end of the day some things are more important than the sharing of information.

Tuesday, 29 November 2011

How would you like it?

It is a question that people should ask themselves before they go ahead and do something to or with a baby (or anybody for that matter).

Imagine this, you are enjoying a sunny Sunday afternoon with family and friends at a riverside rowing club.  You are sitting back, chatting away and people watching.  Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, someone sitting across the table from you leans over and flicks wine from their glass into your face.  Then they laugh and do it another two or three times for good measure.  How would you like it somebody did that to you?  I mean, it's not really something you do to someone is it?

I was absolutely shocked when a family friend, who I have only met a handful of times and have no real dealings with, thought that it was appropriate to do that to BabyB-B on Sunday as she was sitting back in a highchair, chatting away, people watching and enjoying the scenery on the riverside deck.  At the time I was too stunned to do anything other than ask, dumbfoundedly, "Are you right?".  Needless to say it put me in quite a mood for the rest of the afternoon as all I wanted to do was go home and get BabyB-B out of a situation where she was clearly not respected.  Three days later I am still reeling about it.  Fortunately, said family friend lives overseas and I won't be seeing her for a good few months.

Some people may think I'm overreacting and I should just get over it.  The problem is that this is not the first time that I've had to put up with people saying or doing things to BabyB-B with absolutely no regard as to how it would make her feel.

There are the times when, in the company of certain people, BabyB-B is clearly tired.  She is yawning, gazing off into the distance and rubbing her eyes.  At this point I will generally observe, "Oh, you're tired, darling".  For some reason neither the signs BabyB-B is exhibiting, nor my observations, are enough to convince our companions that she is, in fact, tired.  Instead of respecting her feelings, they smile, inches from her face, and boom in a ridiculously sing-songy manner, "You're not tired, are you? No, you're not tired".  They then proceed to pull faces and bellow some more at her.  I want to scream, "How you you like it if someone carried on like that with you when you were sitting there yawning and feeling tired?!", but I don't.

Then there are the times we encounter children, excited to see the baby.  They too put their faces inches away from BabyB-B's face and talk to her.  In their excitement they are really yelling.  BabyB-B is turning her head away, trying to shut them out, but the children keep on.  I understand they are excited.  I want to ask them, in a far more gentle manner than that outlined above, "How would you like it if someone came so close to your face and spoke really loudly to you?".  I don't, but I also wonder why their parents don't.

Sometimes I am feeding BabyB-B.  She is sucking contentedly.  I am gently stroking her hair.  For whatever reason some people think this is an appropriate time to engage her in conversation.  Often they feel the need to get up close to see just what she is doing.  This really does puzzle me.  How would you like it if somebody got up in your face while you were eating?  Never mind how I feel with your head disturbingly close to my breast.

Whenever I do anything with BabyB-B I try to ask myself how I would like it if somebody did it to me.  If I wouldn't like it I'm not going to do it to my baby.  Now I just have to work out a way to get others to ask themselves how they would feel before I crack and scream it at them!!
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