We made it. Rory turned one. And despite face planting some concrete 20 minutes before our guests were due to arrive, he styled his Birthday party out in typical Rory fashion. With shades and a giggle! I feel quite emotional writing this post.  I’m not sure how we managed to get here.  But he seems happy, and healthy, and I’m so very grateful for that. I still haven’t found the manual for baby care. And after 12 months ‘they’ seem to cut you loose.  I say ‘they’, but I guess I’m referring to the support and guidance you receive in that first year. It’s like a pass.  If you fuck up, then at least you can say “I’m just learning”. Now ‘they’ expect me to know what I’m doing.  I don’t. Simon asked me how long I was going to breastfeed for now we had reached the 12 month mark.  He asked me if I felt I was doing it more for Rory than for me.  It made me mad but I did understand his curiosity. And I did think about his question. Just because Rory has been here for a whole year, he still can’t read a memo saying he should think about giving up the booby and moving onto cow’s milk (which he hates).  He feeds morning and night and maybe once or twice more if he’s upset or teething. See? I’m making excuses. Why am I doing that?  I suppose I feel that after a year people start to judge more.  And that’s o.k.  I’ll stand up against any judgment and do what I think is right for us.  We both enjoy the experience and I’m not hurting anyone so I don’t see an issue. Every baby is different and that’s the beauty of it.  I don’t know how this story goes. I just know I’ve finished a chapter. His personality makes itself more apparent every day and if that’s anything to go by then this could continue to be an interesting read.


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