It’s a strange feeling, like being plunged back into those early paranoid days of “is she getting enough?’ I’m feeding her as often as she asks and offering feeds if she so much as glances in my direction.  I’m refusing to put her down or keeping her as close as possible.  I’m taking fenugreek three times a day.  She drains both breasts, they feel like wrung dishcloths, and she’s looking for more.  My instincts tell me to offer more boob but she’s really quite hungry and as much as I don’t want to admit it, my milk supply has dropped.

There are no clean bottles, the steriliser takes 15 minutes.  I offer boob to try to pacify her but it only makes her more frustrated.  She’s screaming so loudly that I lose all common sense and try to give her a banana.  Dadi steps in.  I’m feeling pretty insecure, I have to deal with this alone soon, I need to up my game.

The next time I am prepared.  We start with boob, boob runs out, we switch straight to bottle, bottle finished, straight back on the breast.  On the first day back she took 3 x 100ml bottles, 2 the second day, 1 the third day, none the fourth day, 1 again this evening.  I’m starting to relax but she’s coming with me on the next trip!



We arrive back at Paddington with an hour to kill before the train home.  Breast-milk can be stored at room temperature for up to six hours so this is my first chance to save some.  The platform 1 toilets, baby change and showers are closed and I am directed to platform 12.  The baby change is in the accessible (disabled) toilet, you need a radar key to get in.  I pay my 30p to get through to the toilets. The shower rooms are both locked, the toilets have no lids.  Looking like someone with an obsessive cleanliness disorder I wash my hands then use paper towels to open and close the cubicle door.  Standing with my back to the door and without touching anything other than my sterile pump and milk storage bags I half fill one bag.  I’m cursing Isambard Kingdom Brunel for designing a station without a dedicated feeding room.  I swap sides.  For a moment I am confused that nothing much is happening, then I realise that the entire left side of my vest-top is dripping.

I get home at a quarter to midnight, Moo is fast asleep, I have an overwhelming urge to lick her.  I let her sleep a while longer and take some fenugreek.