We’re not sure where the blue came from, but we’ll take it. There’s just something so beautiful about the way those gorgeous eyes gaze into mine while you’re nursing…
Sometimes, you take a quick break to gasp for air and as you do, your mouth parts into that playful smile that makes my heart melt into a big pile of wax. Then you latch back on to continue where you left off.
As you slowly begin to doze off, your suckle becomes much less forceful. Eventually, once you fall into a deep sleep, your rooting reflex keeps your lips moving in a steady, rhythmic motion until you unlatch altogether. You let out a wistful sigh, and the hand that was pressing against my breast to urge a faster flow falls lazily by your side.
I live for these moments. And in them, I realize how much more I love you with each new day.
You are my heart and soul.
You are a daily reminder of how God put your father and I together and loved us enough to entrust us with your days here on this earth.
It wasn’t always this easy. Those first few weeks of breastfeeding had me almost wanting to give up completely. First, my milk didn’t come in. By the time it finally did, my nipples were raw, sore and cracked from the up-all-night feedings and pumping sessions — all part of an effort to increase my supply so you wouldn’t lose any more weight. You lost more than a pound in the first few days of your life. I’m sure you can imagine how worrisome that was for your mama.
But you finally started to gain, and as that happened, the pain lessened and eventually disappeared. I got used to the feeling of latching you on, and as you grew to be more alert and awake, I started to look forward to watching you gaze into my eyes while you fed.
All the books said breastfeeding would help to foster a deeper mom-baby connection. They weren’t lying.
I think you dread breastfeeding in public almost as much as I do. I always use a nursing cover so as not to flash everyone and to keep from offending people. And almost as soon as I put it on, you start trying to kick it off, as if to remind me that offense is a choice.
I know I could pump more at home and bring bottles of breast milk with me on the go, but I hate pumping, and keeping the milk fresh while you’re out all day seems like more of a hassle than it’s worth. Plus, this way, I can peep through the hole at the top of my nursing cover and gaze into those big baby blues.
I’d like to breastfeed you for at least two years. I know most of American society thinks toddler nursing is gross, but I don’t care. The World Health Organization recommends exclusive breastfeeding up to 6 months of age, with continued breastfeeding and appropriate complementary foods up to two years of age and beyond. I want your immune system to be as strong as it can be, even if that means you can walk up to me and say the word “boobies” by the time our nursing relationship comes to an end. I’ve heard moms say “I’m done. I want my boobs back” after one year of nursing. I say, they’re still mine, and I’m proud and honored to share the contents of them with my little girl to keep her nourished and growing strong.
To each her own.
I’m writing this post in celebration of #worldbreastfeedingweek. At this very moment, you’re lying sideways on a Boppy pillow on top of my lap, while I bring my thoughts to a close.
It’s another beautiful moment I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.