It was my friend who finally made me see sense. She’s a doctor so her opinion cut through in a way my other friends couldn’t, even if they’d told me the same thing.
“Mia, you’ve been on antibiotics for 70 days in the past six months,” she said over the phone after I rang her for yet another emergency script because I had the tell-tale signs of yet another bout of mastitis and I knew I had a very small window before I became completely incapacitated and in agony.
“It’s time to wean. It’s TIME TO WEAN.”
I nodded obediently down the phone as my eyes filled with tears. Of regret. Of relief. Of surrender.