From the very moment my daughter was born, she was a boob girl. She latched on as soon as I brought her to my chest, and she stayed there for 45 minutes while a team of doctors stitched my third-degree tear back together. Anyone who has breastfed will tell you that the learning curve is steep, and things were no different for us — but cracked and blistered nipples, engorgement, and blocked ducts aside, that girl and I were a team. My body eventually healed; my milk supply evened out, and we found our way on what I had assumed would be a roughly 12-month journey.
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