Off my chest

As a new mom...oh wait! Am I technically a 'new mom' when The Implet is already 10 months old? Whatever.

One of the worst aspect of being a new mom is fielding all those questions thrown at you...by family, friends and random strangers who pop from the woodwork at every party/get-together.

And one of the irritating questions is about breastfeeding.

Conversation 1 with Random Stranger(Mom of toddler)

RS: How old is she?

Me: 9 months

RS: So you are breastfeeding her right?

Me (perplexed) : Yes.

RS: Aah! No wonder. Give me your chubby cheeks.

Conversation 2 with Friend after 2 years (Mom of toddler, mom2be of second child)

F: So how old is your daughter now?

Me: 10 months

F: Are you nursing her still?

Me :Yes. 

F: Oh really?. I stopped by 10 months. My doc said i should stop by 8 months.

Me: Good for you.

First, I can't understand how where my daughter puts her mouth is anybody's business but mine and hers. Second, as much as I am open to volunteering information to my good friends and family, I draw the line at 'breastfeeding' being the conversation starter with complete strangers.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with a more generalised, "What does your baby eat now?" It gives me the opportunity to either open or close the door on my nursing expeditions.

(I still can't get over the fact that RSMom's first question after being introduced to me was on breastfeeding.)

To me breastfeeding is personal. It's not easy and I don't want to be judged as either a bad or good mom based on somebody else's parenting ideal. A mom who doesn't breastfeed is NOT a bad parent. And one who does until the kid is 2 ain't cuckoo either. It's their kid, their time and their decision. I am not in their house and they are not wearing my shoes.

Sigh.

Maybe I am making a mountain out of a molehill. But this whole Motherhood shebang is too darn tough I tell you. One moment you are all euphoric having been bestowed the cutest 4-teethed smile for a piece of wafer. Next moment you realise you've turned extremely sensitive, bordering on hallucinating that every person talking to you is judging you as a mom. 

I am irritated and downright angry that no one is around to talk about something completely inane as books or movies. I don't want to talk about The Implet simply because she is my everything. She is ALL I see, breathe and live every single day. And I don't want it any other way. Maybe it makes sense to you or maybe I'm just a crazy idiot.

Sometimes as I close my eyes during the wee hours of a new day, I silently pray I never think of Motherhood as only a synonym for sacrifice. Of all things held dear.