There are so many things that we don't talk about when it comes to motherhood. The relationship between breastfeeding and sexual abuse or trauma is a pretty taboo subject. It's not something you bring up on a playdate in the park while you're sipping lattes.

I'm getting really tired of the binary.

It rarely ever applies. There are almost always shades of grey. Somehow when it comes to parenting in general, and breastfeeding in particular, it seems as if the entire world has chosen sides, drawn a line in the sand, and booby trapped it (pun intended). I've had a special relationship with breastfeeding. Not special in the staring-into-the-soul-of-my-newborn-while-he-drinks-from-my-heart kind of way. Special in the 'it's complicated' kind of way.

Today is my birthday, so it seems only fitting that today is the very first day that The Postpartum Mama 'goes live'.  Birthdays have always been a big deal in my family. You get to do what you want and go where you want and eat what you want. For a control freak person who enjoys a modicum of control it's pretty much the perfect day.

I'm supposed to be working right now; adding columns of numbers to turn in to the IRS so that my clients can write checks or receive them. Both kiddos are asleep at the same time and I've showered for the first time in days and I should really be doing math, but I can't because it's happening again.

Hello, My name is Graeme and I have a toddler. 

If you follow me on Facebook you've seen #becausetoddler and #thisiswhyikeephim on my posts about the roller coaster that is parenting a two year old. I've been told to keep my seat belt on for three years old as well, so... yay?