Life of an unglam mum
As I sat in a session on baby-choking prevention with my daughter Isabelle, then eight months, propped on my knee, I listened intently as the group leader described the intense trauma of a child’s suffocation. As all the other mothers and babies sat quietly, Isabelle suddenly began to bawl. Subtly whipping out my boob so she could latch on for a feed, I hoped I’d prevented her potential screaming session in the middle of a very serious moment. But, as Isabelle withdrew to catch her breath after the initial suckle, my breast acted like a sprinkler, super-soaking her and a couple of nearby babies and toddlers.
Other parents gave me an awkwardly sympathetic
