The sky and the earth of
of the eldest son I gave rise in 19 years. It was the end
In the first month of so-called GV my child gained only 200 grams, the concerned patronage sister insistently recommended a feeding up, and I began to give dityu “Detolakt“. Here - that for me all “pleasures“ of motherhood also began. The seeming found freedom from the child - lack of need to nurse and an opportunity again to visit institute while with the son the husband sat - turned back terrible need to rise at night to prepare a fresh portion of mix. Diapers began to smell awfully and to wash off badly. Every month the number of boxes of dairy mixes increased - it was necessary to save rigidly, cutting down the already not big student`s budget. But the child began to gain regularly weight that very much pleased me and the district doctor with the patronage nurse in addition. With a weight diathesis, an allergy to everything came that you want also frequent catarrhal diseases. It did not upset doctors too:“ At all so, all children are ill, not only yours“.
Here so I grew up the first son, having created at it steady attachment to the wrong and artificial food. Despite the gastritis found in the childhood, he adores and continues to use fast - foot, sausage and carbonated drinks, and plentifully flavors all other food with salt and pepper. And I cannot do anything with it because I have no necessary emotional connection with the child, and my words, councils and requests to him not the decree. Probably so - coldness, emotional estrangement and disrespect - children revenge the parents for treachery.
A I betrayed the son every time when he cried with hunger, for fear, with feeling of loneliness, and I did not give it a breast because there did not pass the put time between feedings yet, betrayed when I did not take on hands not to spoil and to accustom to hands, betrayed when I put to bed not near myself, and in a cold and big trellised bed even if beautiful and brand new as a toy. About what I made and what lost also the own child, I reflected only when 12 years later decided on the second. Everything was absolutely in a different way. And the most up-to-date maternity hospital with individual chambers and small glass cradles at each bed. And the doctors forbidding to use nipples, bottles and the other hogwash replacing to the child a maternal breast. And nurses who me, the old hen of thirty years, learned to hold correctly the child when feeding it is correct to sleep with him that it was possible to feed, and forbade to decant milk, explaining as it is important to adjust comfortable and continuous breastfeeding which will bring joy and me and the child. Really, GV is a pleasure. This inexpressible happiness when your small native lump snuffles at you near by. Any sleepless nights, any tears, any sore tummies and other “pleasures of motherhood“. Any diseases.
What can be compared to small lukewarm handles at you on a face? With an attentive look eye to eye in which there is only one - boundless love and trust? To be so close to the child is such happiness that any mother wants to prolong it as long as possible. I fed the second son to
to me to spit that acquaintances called me a milk cow, and said that supposedly it is destiny of rural aunts who so earn. There would be my will - I would continue to feed the child further because the miracle also consists in it - milk is exactly until it is necessary for somebody. And if I have one more child, I will be happy to nurse also his years to four. Motherhood - happiness, but not torture, it I understood only when grew up the child on full-fledged GV. > As it is good to p to nurse
and how awfully not to feed! And what a pity that we are not able to study on others mistakes but only on the for which we hard and painfully pay subsequently. “To feed or not to nurse - what difference?“ - one acquaintance told recently, having transferred the monthly daughter to artificial feeding to have an opportunity quicker to return for work. “This sky and the earth“, - I answered, without knowing how to explain all that I think about it.