You could write a book on all the ‘wrong’ ways my daughter breastfeeding feeds. Bad latch, frequent feeding even at 14 months, chewing, bobbing on and off so often the world has seen my boobs. It drives me mad. A lot.
Yet I’m lying here after an amazing Christmas party and we’re snuggled in the dark whilst she naps. She so needs this nap. I breathe her in. Her tiny hands cupping my breast as she doses. I know I shall miss these moments.
B is my bittersweet last child. She’s probably going to be the end of my sanity but I cherish being able to meet her needs fully and easily. At least physically easily. Meeting her needs is emotionally one of the hardest things I’ve done.
Yet. As another night has passed where she’s refused to leave my side I know this determined young lady will fly high and far away from me, secure from the cuddles and needs met. Until then, pass the coffee.