She snuggles in, latches on, and munches away. I feel relief. She twists her little hands in my shirt. I hold her close, and wish I never had to let go.
This is a time I will never get back. This is the one time in her life when she needs me for comfort and for food, and it is something that no one else can provide.
I'm going to try and make this time last as long as I can.
The first time, it barely lasted three weeks, as I was fighting against my own ignorance and a baby who, at best, could be called challenging.
The second time, I fought hard to make it work, through tears, hording pain pills to deal with the agony of the early weeks when we were both learning the skills.
The third time, I know all the tricks, from the difference between eating and comfort sucking, where to buy the Lansinoh, that oatmeal and lagers increase milk supply and Sudafed will kill it.
I'm using every trick in the book to make this time last. I know some disagree with breast-feeding, others just don't understand. And few women in the United States make it past six months. I'm determined to make this time last as long as I can, and enjoy as much as I can.
It's my last time with a nursling, and honestly, it rates among the best time I've ever spent with my kids.