Whose child is it anyway?

"He's so cute! How old is he?" She asks me as I try to seem casual as I get up to collect my crawling infant across the doctor's rooms for the umpteenth time. I smile, "Nearly eleven months". At this moment my son turns his head, bats his baby blues and starts opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and finishes it off with a giggle. "He's hungry," an older woman protests, "You need to give him his bottle," I smile and say that he's not hungry and is just playing. "Besides I don't have a bottle, I'm the milk," I say. "Still?"

Rewind a few months: I'm carrying my son whilst walking through a shopping mall. An elderly woman seems to be making a beeline straight for me, and I'm quite surprised at how agile she is at navigating the crowds to get to me. Once she's within a close enough distance she yells, "You!" Pointing her finger in my direction, I double check to see if it is actually me she is looking for, and sure enough, there is no one else behind me. It's as if they all saw her coming and suddenly vacated the area. I look up and smile, whilst jiggling my son on my hip, "Yes?" "You need to cover his head, where is his hat?!" she demanded. "What?" I stutter, completely shocked. "You will let him die, he needs a hat!"

Rewind even further. I'm sitting in the Nicu and all kinds of excited that I get to hold my baby for the first time. He starts stirring and so, with all his tubes and cables, I stand up to rock him, bounce him and love him. My phone clatters on the ground. In truth - I forgot I had it on my lap. Looking into my little one's sleepy blue eyes, most things ceased to matter - except him. "I'm very nervous about you holding that baby if you can't even keep your phone from dropping," one of the doctors barked at me.

"Don't rock him to sleep"
"Don't give him a dummy"
"Give him a dummy"
"Why doesn't he take a dummy?"
"What do you mean he won't take a bottle?"
"Put him in a playpen"
"What do you mean he doesn't have a playpen"
"Give him boob"
"You're giving him too much boob"
"Put him formula"
"Don't take him out"
"Don't keep him at home"
"You need to force him to eat"
"You shouldn't force him to eat"
"You shouldn't let him sleep in your bed"
"You've already moved him into his cot in his room?"
"Feed him banana"
"Don't feed him banana - it causes constipation"
"Force him to nap during the day"
"Never force them to nap during the day, they won't sleep at night"
"Don't sing to him - he'll get too used it"
"Music is good for children, you should sing to him"
"He fell, don't comfort him, he must learn"
"He fell, go and comfort him"
"He fell, give him boob"
"Babies don't need activities"
"Babies need activities to stimulate them"
"Let him cry it out in his cot"
"Never let a baby cry it out in their cot"

And so from the get-go, the world is full of child-centred advice and commands. You see, however long I choose to breastfeed my child is mine and my family's choice. We're looking at the 1 year milestone, and from there we will wean. Depending on which side of the fence you sit, this is either wonderful or mortifying. But, you know what - this is what works for us.

My son and hats? I'll pay you if you can get him to wear a beanie happily, because right now I'm his favourite person and I can't get that one right.

And as for my Nicu experience. I was brand new at this parent thing, but if someone had to say that to me now I would tell them to f**k off. Honestly.

And there it is. The world is full of advice, but whose child is it anyway? You have to decide how your parenting journey will playout. You are the one carving out your baby's childhood - these are memories you're making. So be the parent you want to be and not the one society wants you to be.