A dreaded word when you have a newborn. Dreaded and yet a blessing – at least you know there is enough, unless there is too much and your baby is drowning every time your milk lets down. It happens: gulp, gulp, gulp – he has to pull off, take a break, because you are the proverbial milk factory. Now that my baby is three years old, he is no longer in danger of drowning, to say the least. Now, I am rarely sure anything is “going on” when he has his nummies; now, I savour every last one of our cuddles, because he’ll announce “all done” at any second; now, he is falling asleep on me less and less often (how will I know when it’s the last time I feel his body twitch and go perfectly still, his breath a soft melody against me); now, I know he will not be mine, in the same way, ever again – and now, being engorged is a welcome feeling. Now, it reminds me sweetly of when he was small. Of course, it is never too painful now, just a fleeting pang-iness when I have missed bedtime and