How I became a wet-nurse

And other bits from the last couple of months

Mar 27, 2024

Breasts are amazing.

I sit and breastfeed my baby and look out our bedroom window. It’s fringed with the looping tendrils of the ornamental grape which feathers our veranda’s brow. The vine is old, gnarled and lovely. In the warm months it’s a thick vibrant green. Now, the leaves are crisping, splotched with the colour of dragon fruit. Fingers of sunrise – much later, already, than a month ago – prod through the glass, backlighting my daughter’s hair so the down glows white, the shell of her ear a perfect luminous pink.

Autumn is at first a molecular shift. There’s just a hint of that morning cool, even though the days blaze hot and the nights riot warm. It’s the merest whisper of a change afoot but enough to send my spider senses tingling. Then, the tide is upon us and the shoulder season (those two weeks of the years that we really live for here in dry, hot old Tamworth) puffs about in buttery days. The garden hums with the last of the summer storms, where the earth is still warm but the sun is gentled. It feels languid and celebratory. Another hot season survived, even if we were limping over the burning finish line. Kinder weather is upon us, before the frosts and startling cold.

We returned from Wales at the beginning of February and came home to new neighbours – my sister and husband and four-month-old baby have bought the property over the road from us and we each have our acreage which we add together and decide it’s an empire. She and I will go from cackling about a meme to very seriously acknowledging we’re living our dream. Gratitude abounds. Daily cuppas, sometimes thrice daily. A communion of shared parenting. Weekly dinners. Borrowing food stuff. Our husbands welding and chainsawing, little Huck toddling in tow, near bursting to be helping the men. Planning gardens and pony clubs. We now just need a bridge across the road.

Then, my sister had her appendix out three weeks ago. A sudden pain blew the wind out of her on Saturday afternoon and by Sunday morning she was facing surgery. It’s spectacular and crushing how quickly things can change. How everything you take for granted – picking up your baby for instance – can swiftly be dumped on its head. Mum came to stay with my sister’s baby while my brother-in-law went between the hospital and home. Our living room became a creche and mum and I swept floors and weeded garden beds and made meals and changed nappies and the two days became a rhythm of their own, of tending and nurturing. The inhale/exhale of parenting alongside a woman who works so swiftly from intuition and initiative. Wordless and reassuring.

My precious nephew reluctantly took the bottle at times, but needed a boob to sleep. Mum woke me up at 4am holding the crying boy who looked at me warily but hungrily took my proffered breast. We sat in the dark together, his fat dimpled hand splayed on my chest. His heft couldn’t be more different to my featherweight baby. Thick thighs, gorgeous kissable cheeks, a ferocious latch from a big baby boy who needs the safety of warm skin to drift into dreamland. The exquisite enormity of family, of village, of choice, of setting up our lives to be so inextricably intwined and interconnected came back to me. Feeding a baby that was not my own but is mine in heart and in milk; the ability to do so makes me cry.

Yes, the layout does look a lil different. I’ve joined all the cool kids and have moved my newsie across to Substack. Hope to be turning up here a little less haphazardly - and will be letting you know when my work is out in the world, where you can find it, and whatever the heck else is coming up. xxx

The list

This podcast with Maggie Dent and Hamish Blake. I’ve sent it to many of my parenting friends. So many nuggets of gold.
Then I went down the rabbit hole of Maggie Dent and am listening to her excellent book, Mothering Our Boys on Audible. Oh man. I already feel like I wish I’d done a few things differently while parenting Hucky. But I feel empowered to parent him onwards and raise him to be a loving, resilient, gorgeously adored young man. So many things to look forward to!
I love Anne Lamott. She’s so wry and funny and illuminating. All writers must read Bird by bird. Anyhow. This is on my to-listen list. I don’t love all that Tim Ferris does in the tech-bro-optimisation kinda way but I’m interested to see how the two vibe off each other and to hear Anne talk about her journey to recovery, her creative process, her discovery of grace.
Whenever I feel a little down I go back to this listen with John O’Donohue. Lyrical and uplifting.
Heard of the lipstick index? When times are economically tough, lipstick sales go up. While we might not be able to afford the big ticket items, we might still be able to have a #littletreat aka a lippie. This is on my list when I’m next paid! I loved listening to Poppy King’s story on No Filter too. An intelligent and warm businesswoman.
The perfect white-tee in my humble 6ft tall opinion. Thick cotton. Nice cut. Not expensive.
Chilly mornings abound - my favourite winter woollies for children and babies. Machine washable!!!!!! Durable!!!!!! Soft!!!!!! Lovely colours!!!!!! Bush business by lady startup!!!!!!

If you enjoyed reading this or found any value in the scribbles, I'd love it if you could send it on to a friend! Thank you so much for your replies, emails and comments. Sometimes I send these into the ether and wonder if anyone is there; to have your support means the world.

Until next time, keep well.

Em x