I was not at all prepared to meet my son last summer after he spent a glorious 39 weeks blossoming in my womb. (Love that sentence, I should be a poet!) I wasn't at all prepared for his appetite, either. This little man was attached to my boobs every 75 minutes. He'd eat, get a diaper change, burp and be back at it. My poor boobs begged for mercy and I feared they would just collapse since … [Continue reading...]