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My son Luca is eight years old and in a couple of months he will be settling into a new bedroom. For the fifth time in his short life he will fall asleep in a strange new room where the shadows on the wall are unfamiliar and possibly scary at first. His pillow will smell like home but the room itself will not. Not yet.
I celebrate breastfeeding mothers everywhere. It's a tough and beautiful gig. I also celebrate those mothers who gave it a go and then made another choice -- because nothing is "best" for a baby if the mother is suffering.