It Only Gets Better
Easton CT USA
From: NEW BEGINNINGS, Vol. 22 No. 6, November-December 2005, p. 248
I sit on our bed holding my five-month-old daughter, Astrid, as she nurses. I gently wrap her delicate little curls around my finger as she plays with my shirt, waving it with her chubby outstretched arm like a victory flag.
She stops nursing every so often to look up at me. When I return the gaze, she smiles at me with the most infectious, bubbly smile. We share that all-too-brief moment and she turns back to my breast. I watch her nuzzle her way back on and think about how wonderful it is to be giving this gift to my baby and how lucky I am to be able to give it.
Just when I think this feeling can’t get any better, I look up across the room to see my two-and-a-half-year- old, Gwen, sitting on the floor with her back to the wall and her pink piggy stuffed animal, with bows on its ears, cradled in her lap. She lifts up her shirt and raises the piggy to nurse. Once it is "latched on" she looks up at me. We share a smile and my heart melts, again.