A Quote by Imelda May
When I tell people that I lost my baby weight through breastfeeding, they think I'm exaggerating. But it was brilliant for that. It is great for bonding with your baby. It is hard when no one else can feed her, but it was worth it for me. I loved it.
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Please don't wait until the doctors tell you that you are going to have a baby to begin to take care of it. It is already there. Whatever you are, whatever you do, your baby will get it. Anything you eat, any worries that are on your mind will be for him or her. Can you tell me that you cannot smile? Think of the baby, and smile for him, for her, for the future generations. Please don't tell me that a smile and your sorrow just don't go together. It's your sorrow, but what about your baby? It's not his sorrow, its not her sorrow.
Some of the first questions that people ask new moms is, 'Is your baby sleeping through the night yet?' or 'Are you still breastfeeding?' and if their baby is sleeping through the night or still breastfeeding and yours isn't, you immediately judge yourself and want to know what they are doing to get yourself on the same page.
But truly, women are amazing. Think about it this way: a woman can grow a baby inside her body. Then a woman can deliver the baby through her body. Then, by some miracle, a woman can feed a baby with her body. When you compare that to the male’s contribution to life, it’s kind of embarrassing, really.
Is everybody that depressed? It's a depressing feeling to me. You know: "I lost my baby." I don't care if you lost your baby, I care if you're feeling OK. Don't tell me your problem - tell me what good's been happening to you.
I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more.
I think it's sick that we even post pictures of people in their post-baby bodies or talk about it. It upsets me so much because not only does it make a woman feel bad if she hasn't lost all their baby weight, it's not realistic.
I lost most of my weight from breastfeeding and I encourage women to do it; It's just so good for the baby and good for yourself.
Attachment parenting is this theory that if you wear your baby around and you sleep with your baby and you breast-feed for a long time, the baby will be more attached to you.
Fine,' Aria conceded. 'But *I'll* carry her.' She grabbed the baby seeat from the back. A smell of baby powder wafted up to greet her, bringing a lump in her throat. Her father Byron, and his girlfriend, Meredith, had just had a baby, and she loved Lola with all her heart. If she looked too long at this baby, she might love her just as much.
It's always when you think that you've lost a little of the baby weight that someone steps in grabs a handful of a now sans baby soft belly and asks the inevitable 'When are you due?'
Its always when you think that youve lost a little of the baby weight that someone steps in grabs a handful of a now sans baby soft belly and asks the inevitable When are you due?
I get this a lot: 'Oh, can you take a picture with my baby? Can you hold the baby?' I don't want to hold your baby! I'll hold my baby. I don't like holding someone else's baby. I'm serious! You never know what could happen. It's such an awkward position you're put in, and it's like, 'No, sorry.'
One baby is a patient baby, and waits indefinitely until its mother is ready to feed it. The other baby is an impatient baby and cries lustily, screams and kicks and makes everybody unpleasant until it is fed. Well, we know perfectly well which baby is attended to first. That is the whole history of politics.
A woman can tell me about her having a baby, but I'll never know what it is to have a baby.
People say that when a baby is crying the paternal grandmother will say, "The baby is crying, you should feed her," and the maternal grandmother will say, "Why is that baby crying so much, making her mom so tired?
I think of the chimp, the one with the talking hands. In the course of the experiment, that chimp had a baby. Imagine how her trainers must have thrilled when the mother, without prompting, began to sign her newborn. Baby, drink milk. Baby, play ball. And when the baby died, the mother stood over the body, her wrinkled hands moving with animal grace, forming again and again the words: Baby, come hug, Baby come hug, fluent now in the language of grief.
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