Nick once read that the breastfeeding mother of an infant would spend the equivalent of 45 days feeding her child. I thought that sounded crazy when he read it, but the more time I spend with my child attached to my breast the more realistic it seems.
I love every minute of it.
Sure, in those first few weeks there were moments when all I wanted was for Nick to take the baby and shove a bottle in her mouth because I was exhausted. I spent time sitting in the recliner, crying, as we entered our second or third straight hour of cluster feeding and wishing she would just go to sleep. Little did I understand that she was smarter than me; she was doing what she needed to do to build my supply so that we could get to the point where I would love breastfeeding so much that I wouldn't want it to end.
No one else in the world gets to experience this time with Kate like I do. She depends solely on me for food. I am her whole world, and that's a pretty cool feeling. In the early days, she would do the cutest things with her hands while she ate, holding them right around her face. Now, she usually strokes the back of my hand with hers, up and down, very methodically while she eats.
When she's finished, we get to sit and stare at each other, makes faces, giggle and sing. She likes hanging out on my breastfeeding pillow. She often lays there sleeping after a meal, snuggled up against me in the most secure place in the world.
I am so grateful that I am able to breastfeed my daughter. I have no plans to wean her anytime soon, nor do I plan on any food touching her lips before she is 6 months old, as recommended. I know there are so many health benefits for both of us because of breastfeeding, but mostly I love it because it is ours, and no one else can ever share in that bond.