mother's milk

More than a week has passed, which is not at all surprising when you know me and my propensity to put things off, or just to be generally too disorganised to find the time. Such is my life, to paraphrase Ned Kelly. I swear I will be more vigilant when I'm paying to call myself a blogger.

Loving the 24-hour husband thing, with RJ on holidays and all. I think he might be pleased to go back to work for a rest. But it is lovely having him around. We even went to the beach twice in as many days last week.

Meanwhile, I've been reading in last month's Women's Weekly (better late than never) about a plan to create a breast milk bank in a Queensland hospital. It will be the only one in Australia, and will help pre-term babies and those whose mothers for various reasons cannot provide their own milk. I remember thinking, during one of my many sleep-deprived hazes while I was still breastfeeding F, that it would be wonderful if you could go into a supermarket and buy a carton of breast milk alongside the low-fat, no-fat, high-calcium, lactose-free, soy varieties. Wouldn't that be grand? My vision may never be realised, but the vision of at least one Australian breast milk bank for wee bairns is still a worthy one. Go to www.mothersmilkbank.com.au for more info, and details of a CD you can buy to help fund the project. It features The Waifs, Deborah Conway and Women In Docs, among many others. Almost makes me sad I may never call myself a breastfeeding mother again. How quickly we forget the soggy bra straps, baby-vomit shoulders, sudden and indiscriminate 'leaking' in public and boobs like granite. Even as I am writing these things, I realise how much I really do miss it.