Litres and litres of love

To celebrate the World Breastfeeding Week – for some of us that’s every week, but yes, it’s a thing! – I would like to introduce to you one of my favourite books from our daughter’s bookshelf. It’s a stunningly illustrated gem called Litros y Litros de Amor (eng. Litres and Litres of Love) by Cristina Romero and Francis Marín published by Editorial OB STARE. I discovered it after our daughter was gifted another delightful book by the same authors and publisher called El Libro Rojo de Las Niñas (eng. The Girls’ Red Book) which beautifully introduces the topic of menstruation and the super power that all girls and women carry within. But perhaps I shall leave that one for another day.

Litros y Litros de Amor is filled with gorgeous drawings that accompany a poem-conversation between a mother and a child. It weaves through the subjects of birth, breastfeeding and unrushed gentle parenting – all of it beautifully threaded with litres and litres of liquid love that the little one receives in the mother’s arms.

OB STARE have shared with me that they are in the process of translating this book into English, and in the meantime have allowed me to post part of it with my own translation. When I started this, I didn’t realize how challenging it is to translate and attempt to create at least something that resembles a rhyme! Thankfully, the official translation will be with us soon. But for now, Happy World Breastfeeding Week!


For Daddy and Mommy
who always guarded
a huge space for me in their hearts.

Many times
you’ve told our history,
I guard it dearly
in my memory.

After nine moons,
you opened the path, and I opened it too.
I came out, smelled and recognised you.
I went from dwelling within to being sheltered by you.

Slowly I climbed
up to your mountains
and remained there to live.
For a year, two, three or one thousand.
– For as long as you and I want,
you whispered to me.

From you sprang forth the nectar of life
so that with no timetable nor measure
I could feel satisfied.

And you entered slow beat
where all can wait,
as none matters more
than the art to breastfeed.

I came into your arms and your chest
I grew,
and wherever you went
there was place for me too.

Later at night
you kept being open,
nourishing me with your touch
and life’s hope.

Daddy and you
let me grow with no rush while
I followed my rhythm,
with freedom and smiles.

You trusted in me
that I would get it done
listening to my heart
wherever I am.

You also were close
when I was in pain,
you understood my tears and
to me warmth you gave.

Over years I’ve received
litres and litres of love,
and although it all changes,
you guard in your hearts a huge space for me.

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