Mother insisted that breast feeding was something we—the women of both the Sebring and Blackburn families—just didn’t do, and since I’d be going back to work shortly and would be unable to take Quinton with me, it would be better to start him off with formula.
“After all, you’ll hardly want to be milked like a cow!” Mother declared, and I saw no reason to disagree with her.
If Nigel had insisted otherwise, I wondered, would she have changed her mind? However, he didn’t object.
I’d do what I had to do, but I almost wished he had objected. My breasts were so filled with milk they hurt, and even the slight weight of my nightgown was painful.
“Darling, what’s wrong?” Nigel asked when he found me almost in tears. I knew they would do no good, but I felt so helpless.
I gestured to the front
