Whenever I see a breastfeeding woman now I have the muscle memory of the initial latch, the tingle, the squeeze, the flow, the sticky hands pulling my hair, gently pinching my skin, cuddling into the fold between my breasts.
"Sonia - am I doing it right?" "Doing what, Laura?" "Being a mum?" "How do you feel when you hold her?" "I love her, but I don't want to mess it up."
Was I a mum? A woman? A wife? A friend? How was a possibly going to be all things to all people as well as provide for the new tiny human?
If there’s one thing you take from this, let it be this - it's not a battle, we’re on the same team.
I knew that I did have a choice and that hospital guidelines are just that – guidelines, based on an average. It was a guess date and in my case we guessed wrong!