Have started attending new baby classes at the doctor's surgery on a Wednesday. The midwife says it's an opportunity to meet other new mums and swap advice and tips, but it's so much more than that.

Started to plan what myself and baby should wear the night before.

Also made sure her bag was packed - Johnson's wipes, not the Superdrug own brand - and arrived a little early, to get a good seat.

Sitting in a circle, all the babies were checking out each other, while their mums checked out how much baby weight they'd lost compared to the woman next to them.

We talked about sleep and lack of it and then the boobies came out.

Now, strike me down dead, call me a terrible mother, whatever you want, but I am one from the dark side - a bottle feeder.

- and aren't I glad.

Sitting in that circle watching a young Australian mum struggling to get her very hungry baby to feed, I could almost feel the stress radiating from her.

Granted, it's not always like that. Sitting next to her, another little one was slurping away at his mum, while she read a magazine.

My litle one, meanwhile, drank her bottle and drifted off happily, as is her wont.
Breast may be best, but my bottle fed babe is getting bonnier by the day.