There's a breastfeeding carnival?

Apparently there is a large group of bloggers writing about their experiences breastfeeding.
I'm guessing these people don't have children in high school, and they are telling their stories in the way we all tell our labor stories.
On the one hand, I'm a little envious - that's a nice time, when children are little and the stories from the trenches are still fresh, but I'm also pretty pleased to not be putting the boys in their car seats everyday.

We purposely spaced the boys pretty far apart. Each baby got their own baby time without a toddler looking over my shoulder.
As for the breastfeeding...
I went back to work when Oldest was 8 weeks old. I'm sure that ruined the rest of his life, but I was 26 years old and had a job waiting for me. So that's what I did. I wasn't good at pumping, though he was very good at nursing. I cut him off and ended up quitting my job somewhere around the time he was a year old. There was no internet back then. It was just him and me. He carried a bottle around for a while, I think I took it away when he was nearly 3. I was ambiguous about the beauty part of breastfeeding.

I was working during my pregnancy with Middle. I would freelance from time to time depending on how K's work was going. I hemorrhaged in the office one day and that was the end of that. We spent that weekend waiting to see if Middle would stay or go. I was nearly six months pregnant, and we all know he stayed. He was the kind of baby then that is a grown person now, silent, calm, happy. I breastfed him happily until he was about ten months old and there was a heatwave. I had had enough, he didn't mind and it was just too hot to have him on me several times a day. My girlfriends were all breastfeeding for about the same length of time so I had encouragement.

Of course, it's Youngest's story that is the most dramatic. I had a lovely birth with Youngest. Middle was four and Oldest was ten. Everything really was second nature. Youngest was a decent nurser, but not great. And, if he was moved at all after he was fed, and I mean at all, he would make a little noise and all of the milk would pour out of him. Not like throwing up - like pouring a pitcher of milk onto whomever or whatever he was near. After about four months of this, and it was tough work to NOT MOVE after feeding him, he turned his little face away from me and stopped breastfeeding altogether. As it had been a chore to begin with, I let it happen. We switched to fancy formula - the doctor thought he might have a milk allergy. But he didn't.
He had a hard time with baby food. I thought he was picky. He gagged a lot, on silly things. I thought I was rushing him. As he learned to talk we all saw that his little mouth had a jaunty pull to one side. We made Popeye jokes. And then, when he went to nursery school, the teacher pointed out to me that his funny lopsided grin was not an affectation. And she was very astute.
Because, after months of testing, we discovered that part of his face is paralyzed. And breastfeeding? all those years ago? was probably damn near impossible.

So.
That's pretty much how I feel about all of that.
I used cloth diapers for Middle too. And I'm sure that's what made him the kind of guy he is today.
I've got to remember to tell him that.
In front of his girlfriend.