I’ve been struck down again. I knew it – I knew I shouldn’t have rushed around like a mad woman on Friday trying to get so much done and stressing myself out in the process.

Mastitis. It’s practically my middle name at this stage. In the six months since I had Bowie, this is my thirteenth time getting it. Thirteen times. Yikes.

It’s not too bad; a sore lump in the boob that makes breastfeeding hurt for a day or two until it hopefully clears up. But it does make me extra tired and it does hurt and often I get down in the dumps when I get it. Mainly due to the extra tiredness because, let’s face it, when you’re a breastfeeding Mum and you’re waking on the hour nearly every hour at night for your little one’s “boob demands”… you really don’t need any additional energy-suckers.

And mastitis definitely sucks.

But I don’t want to make this post all doom and boob (ha!) so let’s move swiftly along. My parents are currently fulfilling their grandparenting duties of taking my little baba off my hands so I can take a hot shower (mainly as part of the mastitis-recovery plan) and relax (or not relax but write this and get s**t done, if you like. Which is probably why I keep getting mastitis).

It has been a rough ride with Bowie and breastfeeding: the first month it hurt like hell every single feed (and he only feed around ten-twelve times a day). Twice in the first three months I had to take antibiotics for rather severe doses of mastitis, while in August, the fifth month, I seemed to catch it twice every week. And now, these past couple weeks, Bowie’s been waking up constantly at night, unwilling to settle without the boob.

We co-sleep (hence I haven’t lost my mind yet) so it’s mainly a matter of rolling over, popping him on and dozing off until I realize he’s done and I can snuggle back under my duvet and sleep properly. But it still makes for a really broken night’s sleep.

Yesterday, I was reading over some of last year’s daily scribbles and quite a few were written late in the evening, usually after a busy restaurant shift, where the majority of the blog-posts read something along the lines of “tired tired tired tired tired”. (Riveting stuff.)

I’ll tell you something now: I didn’t know the meaning of that word! Because no matter what happened each day, I always got a full night’s sleep.

A. Full. Night’s. Sleep.

I’m drooling at the thought of it. And silently weeping. I know my time will come, that this is just a phase, a short phase full of incredibly precious moments with my gorgeous six month-old son. And that keeps me going through the harder times.

That and coffee.

And on that note – ciao darlings!

Liz