Heavy eyes and five-hour old, cold coffee in hand I make my way to the nursing chair amid the screams of my hungry child. Did I sleep? I'm not quite sure. Did he sleep? I wonder as I glance over to my cozy, beckoning bed and see my husband sleeping soundly, unaffected. I shoot him a jealous glance, but anything more requires too much energy; energy that I need to make it through this next feeding session.
I shuffle to the chair, set my old, cold coffee down on the nightstand, and turn to the bassinet where my son screams a bloodcurdling scream; fists clenched, veins popping, face feverish and red. I gently pick up his hot, sweaty, and irate body. He instantly calms his cries and starts head bobbing and sounding kitten-like grunts, routing incessantly for the breast as I carefully crawl into the chair. He finds the nipple, opens wide, and suckles in a nearly seamless fashion that I can not help but admire and releases a most satisfied sigh as if to say "at last!"
As he enjoys his baby-feast, I examine him, my little man-child. So perfect, innocent, and soft. Though my eyes are sulking, my head aches, and my body is stretched, my soul has never known such joy. Although someday this boy will cower at the thought of my kisses, and will tell me to drop him off a block from school... tonight, yes this very moment I am the most important, essential thing. I am his food, his comfort, his first and only love and I wouldn't miss this for the world...
...well...perhaps on second thought for an hour more of sleep.
Happy World Breastfeeding Week!