How many years, I wondered, did I need to breastfeed my way back to zero?
Vaguely, I had always wanted children anyway.
Maybe by then, I told myself, I would be a grown-up who knew what to do.
Photographed by Steven Klein,Vogue, August 2006
Maybe, the recommendations will even have changed.
At my six-week postpartum checkup, my OB asked me whether I wanted any more children.
I breastfed my daughter through all her preschool illnesses.
I was so proud of us for making it past the infant stage, and emotional when we stopped.
It seemed like a miracle that we had made it nearly two and a half years.
Last summer, I had that second baby, whom I know is my last.
My breasts are connected to my babies in obvious ways, but in more complicated and emotional ways too.
Like all babies, mine have relied on my breasts.
But my breasts have also relied on my babies.
Breastfeeding is not going as well the second time as it did the first.
I feel frustrated with her, which is unfair for an infant who doesn’t understand the stakes.
She cannot protect me from cancer, cannot reduce my risk to zero.
Not even a mastectomy can do that.
