Anyone get the Sound of Music reference from the title? Just curious.

BG is 16-going-on-17 months old!

I now see her as a full-fledged toddler and no longer a baby.

I get a little melancholy and anxious when I think about how quickly time passes.

I wonder how I measure up as a mother. Am I doing the best I can? Can I do better? What should I aspire to?

But overall, I think I’m doing an ok job. Sometimes I even feel above average. And BG is a happy, healthy little kid.

BG is going through a developmental growth spurt and I am amazed.

She constantly babbles in a conversational tone and uses hand gestures for emphasis. It’s adorable! And now she starting to expand her vocabulary at a rapid pace. Our newest word is “Cheeese!”

BG wants to talk on the phone when I’m speaking to Mr. MLACS or my sister. She puts the phone to her ear and carries it all over the house, babbling. Which is fine until she starts pressing buttons. *sigh*

She had taken to playing with baby dolls at gym daycare, so I bought her a Wee Baby Stella doll and a stroller. BG loves her! My sister bought her a doll too. She carries her babies around and smooches them loudly on the head–such a sweetheart❤ We ordered a doll high chair, a feeding accessories kit, and a pair of pj’s for baby Stella and I cannot wait for them to get here!

BG loves to play pretend. She’s always whipping up food in her toy kitchen or serving tea and cupcakes at her little table I made for her. She cares for her babies. Goes shopping with her grocery cart. And she is constantly putting on my clothes and parading around the house–so funny to see her wearing a pair of pants around her neck like a feather boa.

She also loves to help me do things. Every day she squeals with delight when I ask her to help me feed puppy and kitty. She runs to the closet, opens it, and takes out the dog food. I help her scoop it and walk it over to puppy’s dish. When the cat gets his wet food, BG ceremoniously throws the packaging in the garbage–she knows every step and does things in order. She will even pick up her dirty clothes after her bath and go put them in her laundry basket without me asking! Each night she says nite nite to puppy and kitty, and brushes her teeth before bed.

BG is waaay into books now. She’s partial to pop-up books and flap books and sensory books and books with moving parts. I’ve recently expanded our collection of board books. I even bought a book about moving house (geared towards toddlers) but she’s not into it–probably should’ve bought the Bearenstein Bears moving book instead. C’est la vie.

She is also fond of her “Potty” book, and her “Ten Tiny Toes” book. We talk about going to the potty and I have a silly song I made up that she likes, but I don’t have any plans for potty training yet. She always shakes her head no when I ask her if she made a poop in her pants, even when her pants are loaded.We talk about her body parts too and BG will touch her head, knees, and toes when we sing “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes”.

Just in the last few weeks I’ve been encouraging BG to color with crayons and color wonder markers. Sometimes I use that time to do things or look at my phone, and I sheepishly admit that BG has eaten a bit of crayon. I don’t get why it’s happened more than once–they taste like sh*t! But alas, I need to pay better attention.

I have trouble with my rosacea when I get sun on my face so we haven’t gone to the pool regularly, but we have been to a pool, a spray park, and a mini toddler water park. We have a water table on our patio that we play with. I also took BG to the science center in the city a couple weeks ago. We go play at the library and Barnes & Nobles. BG goes to gym daycare for a couple hours a week and has her super awesome nanny over to play for 3.5 hours once a week (while I step out and take time for myself). We go to parks regularly too, and for walks in her stroller. I look forward to moving so I can enroll BG in swim lessons and The Little Gym and our new Southern home is close to a zoo and a science center so we can get season passes.

Even though I try to engage BG, I work around her schedule and add/drop activities depending on her naps and how we are feeling. Like today, we just stayed in our jammies and stayed in the house all day, save for about 30 minutes playing ball with puppy and blowing bubbles on the patio. I cooked and cleaned and let BG help a little. We played dolls. I let BG help me make scones. She took a 3 hour nap, so I ended up skipping the grocery store and that’s ok. We can go tomorrow instead.

I bought BG a bunch of clothes at Gymboree and earned $50 in “gym bucks”. Things I look forward to: cashing in my gym bucks and buying BG more clothes in September! I might walk around looking homeless, but my kid always looks fresh. And I always put her in comfy shoes, like vans or converse. I looove her little pink velcro converse shoes!

And I mean, I need to buy her clothes because she is growing like a weed. I need to measure her again but I’m sure she’s every bit of 34 inches. She wears 18-24 month but needs 2T in some stuff for the length (like rompers). I keep all her clothes because 1. I love them and paid a lot for them, and 2. Part of me hopes to have another girl.

BG is starting to wean from nursing. Not nursing much during the day, just morning, naps, and bedtime. Whereas nursing used to put her to sleep, it seems she gets wound up by me being in bed with her, so a lot of the time I nurse her for up to 45 minutes, then if she can’t get to sleep I tuck her in and let her fuss for a few until she falls asleep on her own. Six months ago I thought I’d be co-sleeping until she went to college. But now I think she’ll be ready to transition to her own bed soon enough. To tell you the truth though, I’m not ready yet–even if she is.

Did I mention that BG loves to dance?! Oh she dearly loves to dance, and I dearly love to watch her and dance with her. It is my most favorite thing. She will rock out to any song, even commercials! I would say our favorite song is the Sesame Street theme song, but we love them all. She likes to play with her musical instruments too (drum, maraccas, recorder, tambourine).

I think that’s all for now–just needed to write about how awesome my kid is and how much I love her.

There is a story book that I discovered at the library, then bought it because I was mesmerized by the illustrations. It’s called “Before You Came”. It’s quite lovely. And there is one line that I adore:

“Now everything that came before you, is for you”

And that is how I feel about my BG. I want to give her a beautiful childhood.






Gone With The Wind


Our Southern dream home–that kitchen I posted a pic of in my previous “Heading South” post–it’s gone with the wind.

There was a fire.

We are still in shock.

It happened Monday afternoon and I still have to wake up and ask myself if this really happened.

Mr. MLACS had returned to the Midwest after being away for a month (working at his new job in the South). We were expecting the movers on Wednesday. I had just returned from what I thought was my last trip to my local target store. I bought BG her first baby doll (a wee stella doll) and a stroller, and she was obsessed–we were giggling as she pushed the stroller around and cussed me in gibberish when I tried to help.

We were blissfully unaware that our world was about to turn upside down.

And then our realtor called, and I saw Mr. MLACS’s smile twist into a look of horror and panic.

Our realtor said the fire department had called her and informed her there was a fire. And she was on her way there.

We clung to the hope, “Maybe it’s not that bad”.

There were flurries of phone calls to various entities and finally, pictures sent to us via text.

It was THAT bad.

One entire side of the house was burnt to a crisp and damage throughout. And the chilling part was…

The fire started above what would have been BG’s bedroom.

I was holding it together until I imagined losing my precious baby or my pets to this fire. Or my husband. Oh Lord, no. I feel physical pain at the thought of how tragic this could have been.

It feels like one of those nightmares where you’re falling and falling and just waiting to hit the ground. It’s the worst feeling.

We are grieving. There is no other way to describe it. We are going through the stages of grief.

We break down, compose ourselves, and put one foot in front of the other. Over and over.

It appears to have been faulty wiring. Specifically, an issue that was *previously flagged as a safety hazard during inspection* and supposedly corrected. Our homeowners insurance is going to go after the builder’s insurance. This could get ugly, and we are hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

Ultimately, it looks like we’ll be completely tearing it down and rebuilding it.

The tentative plan is to find temporary housing and resume moving house ASAP. But for now, myself, BG, and the pets are staying at our home in the Midwest, and poor Mr. MLACS has had to return to the South by himself to deal with this situation and go back to work.

We are SO sick of living apart and we need each other right now. This sucks.

This whole situation is emotionally draining.


We are so so so very fortunate that we were not in the house at the time of the fire. We are all ok.

None of our things were there either, save for a couple (brand new) mattresses and about $6k worth of new appliances we had purchased and delivered just a week ago. These things can be replaced.

None of our stuff was even packed, because we were waiting for the movers to come pack it on Wednesday (today).

There was definitely a guardian angel(s) looking out for us–my Mom, for sure, and I feel there were others.

And it is heartwarming that so many friends have reached out to us, to check on us and offer help. What’s more, the small community we are moving to has been very supportive–everyone we know and many complete strangers have helped us and offered to help and support us in any way possible.

It brings a tear to my eye. Tears of joy at the good in this world. That people care.

I’ve found true friends already and I don’t even live there.

This is another blessing in disguise, just like all my other trials in life.










Hey ladies, hope you all are well!

I have been preparing for our move, but not in the way one would expect. I haven’t packed a single box, and I don’t intend to–since it’s a company move, we are provided with movers who will pack our things. It’s such a relief to not have to worry about that.

But I still worry. A LOT. I have anxiety and depression and for me (for a great many people) peace of mind is especially hard to attain.

Therapy taught me a lot about myself. How I process things, how I react to them–and then how to try to gain perspective and react in a healthy way. Therapy was very helpful.

After nearly 2 years of weekly or bi-weekly visits with my therapist, it was hard to say goodbye to her. She was with me through almost my entire pregnancy (began seeing her at 12 weeks), through crippling fear due to IF/RPL, through birth planning, through Mr. MLACS’s health crisis, through family issues, through the breastfeeding struggles, the PPA, through every.single.thing. She has been my touchstone–my guiding light–my pillar of strength and wisdom.

How do you quit your guru cold-turkey? When there is nothing and no one to take her place?

Well, I just put one foot in front of the other until the day we had to say goodbye. Somehow, I knew I’d be ok. And she kindly offered to speak to me if I felt the need.

Meanwhile, I had been curious about a thing called EFT tapping. A friend (who also has anxiety) mentioned that a mutual friend had used EFT tapping on her son (who has anxiety) and it immediately changed his behavior and made him less anxious.

“Hmmm”, I thought, “Maybe I should try it”. But then I didn’t. I was apprehensive about reaching out to mutual friend to ask her about it.

Until I had to quit therapy and started to feel like a “basket case” as the impending move loomed closer. Then I began to feel desperate. And I was ready to try anything and everything in order to keep my sh*t together, for my family’s sake.

So I reached out to mutual friend and asked to meet with her.

I had very realistic expectations–I just wanted to feel a little bit better. I just wanted things to feel manageable instead of feeling overwhelmed.

It FAR exceeded my expectations.

I went in expecting to talk about the issues I pinpointed in therapy. And I did. But as I spoke about them my friend asked me what emotions I had, and where I felt them. I was taken aback, but I was able to articulate feelings that corresponded to each issue I approached, “Angry”, “Sad”, “Betrayed”, “Frustrated”, “Confused” and so many more. When prompted, I realized I felt a tightness in my chest, a lump in my throat, a heavyness in my stomach, in relation to each issue/emotion. This was quite a revelation.

After we identified the issue (thought), the emotion, and the physical symptom, my friend would have me tap through the EFT tapping points and repeat after her. An example might be:

“When ABC did XYZ I was frustrated and sad, but even though ABC did XYZ and I am frustrated and sad, I *deeply and completely accept myself*”

And after tapping it out, my friend would ask me how I felt on a scale of 0-10, and each time I felt relieved. I felt better. I was going from a solid 7 to a 3 or 4, sometimes a 2, with issues that had been plaguing me for months and years. I could physically feel my negative emotions being released.

My friend asked how I felt and I said lighter and more energetic–like I had just drank a 5 hour energy drink. She smiled and said that negative emotions weigh us down and most people do feel a physical energy shift when purging them.

I am a fan of metaphysics. It was not hard for me to believe.

I left feeling higher than a kite. I called Mr. MLACS and shared my excitement and that I couldn’t wait to do it again!

In between sessions, I occassionally tapped on myself, and saw positive results every time. My mood lifted. I was more productive. I felt more fulfilled.

The next two sessions were more intense. They dredged up some core issues for me (the kind of things you bury deep within yourself and never allow yourself to think about). But even though I didn’t leave those sessions feeling “high”, I left with some peace of mind and the feeling that I am headed in the right direction.

I am healing. But the healing process will take time–my scars run deep. I am ok with this.

So ladies, instead of packing my things, I have been unpacking my emotional baggage.





Heading South

We are about to move for the 6th time in 5 years (really, 7th move when you count our refugee move from one apartment to another after our pipes burst in 2014).

We’ve been renting and waiting to buy until Mr. MLACS left his current position (which requires him to go all over the world) for something stationary.

Living this way has been really f*cking difficult. His company never fully covered our expenses and each move was on short notice and cost thousands out of pocket, depleting our savings and accruing debt. It is up to me to find comfortable and affordable rental housing, and in the interim we lived in hotels for weeks. I also had to leave jobs and find new ones ASAP (no pressure or anything). It seems like just about the time we’d feel stable and secure (make friends, find good doctors/hairstylists/grocery stores/etc.) we’d have to up and move again.

For the past almost 3 years, Mr. MLACS has been working out of the country more than 50% of the time, and for the past several months he’s been gone 80% of the time, leaving me alone to deal with fertility treatments, my pregnancy and BG’s first year of life.

I don’t know how to adequately describe the situation, but suffice to say it has been HARD.

But no more!

Mr. MLACS has accepted a position with a new company and we are moving to the South! Land of sweet tea and humidity.

We are also purchasing our first home!

It’s brand new, it’s gorgeous and I looooove it! Here is a pic of my kitchen–the kitchen is really what sold me. Those quartz countertops… *swoon*


I have not seen the home in-person, but I found it online and sent Mr. MLACS to go look at it, and we put an offer in that day.

We are both SO excited for this move! The new company is rolling out the red carpet, covering ALL moving costs (movers to pack/unpack our things, house-hunting trips, miscellaneous expenses, and they are even paying our closing costs on the house). Mr. MLACS has earned this–he has given 200% to his career and he deserves every perk. But we are still incredibly grateful for this opportunity. We are humbled by this company’s grand gestures of good faith.

So far, we’ve experienced nothing but graciousness and Southern hospitality. I’ve never visited where we are going, but I already have warm feelings about it based on my interactions with people over the phone.

I’m so very hopeful–that we’ll make great friends and beautiful memories there. One set of next door neighbors reportedly has a kid close to BG’s age, a labrador to befriend our labrador, and the wife is a SAHM. I already envision morning walks and coffee, playdates, bbq’s and superbowl parties.

And from now on Mr. MLACS will be home for dinner every night and off on weekends! With his prior company, he usually worked 6 days a week, often 7 days. He would leave the house at 4am and I was lucky to see him by 7pm. Then when he started traveling, it was 16 days gone/12 days home, and these past few months he was gone 4-5 weeks and then only home for 5-7 days.

It will be an adjustment. There will be growing pains. But it feels promising. It feels right.

I need to practice using the word “y’all”.





3 Year Blogiversary

Wow… what a looooong strange trip it’s been…

And here I was laying here, frustrated that BG woke me up several times and that I’m lying here awake looking at social media…

I’d like to thank wordpress for reminding me how gutted I was 3 years ago, having started this blog after my second miscarriage and in the midst of a health crisis and marital discord. I was inconsolable. I was in my own personal hell.

Now that I have my BG, my biggest problem is getting enough sleep–which is trivial in comparison to the anguish of infertility and loss. I will drink my morning coffee and be grateful instead of agitated.

Thank you ladies for being there for me through it all.



Baby Steps

You know (as I’ve told you) that I just couldn’t leave BG during the first 12 months of her life. Sometimes I was overwhelmed, but I sucked it up and devoted myself to her 24/7 because that was what I was compelled to do.

Mr. MLACS was working out of the country more than 50% of the time, but even when he was home I didn’t leave because BG would freak out.

But as she turned a year old, nursing less and generally being more interested in and relaxed around people besides me, my intuition said it was time to try leaving her with someone so I can do things for myself.

Unfortunately, the first time I left BG was because I had to have a colonoscopy. She screamed bloody murder as Mr. MLACS walked away from me when the nurse came to take me for prep. It was AWFUL. And I forgot my cell phone so I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs for an hour wondering if BG had calmed down. Finally I asked a nurse if I could use a phone, and I was shocked when Mr. MLACS informed me that BG was happily playing after he had just fed and changed her. And here I almost certain that she would be scarred for life. Quite to the contrary, she was playing and having fun. I was SO relieved. The day after the procedure I got really REALLY sick and had to go to the emergency room, and again Mr. MLACS took care of BG for several hours and she was perfectly ok.

This was Step 1 in my quest to free myself from my mental prison of anxiety.

Step 2 was to leave BG under *normal* circumstances (not due to invasive medical procedures or illness).

I seriously missed working out at the gym, so I decided to take BG to gym daycare while I worked out. The advantages are that I’m close by if she were to be inconsolable or otherwise need me, there are other kids there of all ages to distract and entertain her, and the girls that work there are sweet as pie.

When I left her for the first time she *wailed* and I cringed and repeated to the girls that they shouldn’t hesitate to come get me if BG didn’t calm down. I went to spin class and for the first half of the class I kept looking over at the door expecting one of the daycare providers to summon me. But no one came. I skipped stretching and practically ran back to the kids corner. But I needn’t have been so hasty, because the girls said she stopped crying after a couple minutes and didn’t cry at all after that. I was floored! Could it be that my high-needs baby was blossoming into an independent little kid?! I grinned from ear-to-ear, so proud of both of us for taking this step out of our comfort zone.

Step 3 was to hire a nanny so I can actually go somewhere and do something *by myself*. By 13 months, BG turned into a toddler almost overnight and she was taxing me. I thought I might lose my mind. I was ready for a break!

I could tell that one of the girls from gym daycare was fond of BG, so I asked her if she was interested in bannying for us once or twice a week–she enthusiastically agreed! I had her over one time to go over things with her, and then she came for the first time last week. I was ridiculously nervous, but needn’t have worried because BG the nanny said didn’t cry AT ALL! I felt like an idiot for coming home 30 minutes early–but proud that I left for 2.5 hours. I seriously did not even know what to do with myself–I have not been *alone* in 14 months.

Today I had the nanny over again and this time I had lots on my to-do list and no intention of coming home early. I grabbed starbucks and got a bikini wax and a pedicure and thoroughly enjoyed every minute, knowing BG was in good hands. The nanny even took her to our neighborhood park in the stroller and I remained perfectly calm. I did come home 10 minutes early–maybe next time I can stay gone the full 3 hours!

Also re: “baby steps” I am happy to report that BG started walking at 13.5 months! Now the world is her oyster❤



A Tale of Two Boobs: Part 4

Been thinking about writing this for awhile, but I thought I’d wait and see what happens next, as I initially thought ATOTB would be a four part series, and that part four would tie up loose ends, offer some reflection, and end the series.

But here I am–BG is just shy of 14 months and I’m *still* breastfeeding.

A teacher gifted me a plaque for my birthday when I was in the first grade. It read something like “God helps those who help themselves” with a drawing of a little girl in a garden. She wasn’t even my teacher–she sent for me to come to her classroom, and presented me with this little plaque. I was surprised, and I felt very special and loved. I proudly hung the plaque on my bedroom wall. I now wonder why she chose me–maybe God spoke to her?

Those words stuck with me.

My ability to EBF my daughter is nothing short of miracle, given my challenges.  But I have endured. I have done everything in my power to go this distance with my baby. And bless her heart–my BG is a tenacious little creature and she did her part too.

To continue where I left off…

At around 10 months, I got mastitis *again*. $@&#!

I was really not f*cking around so I asked Dr. Angel for antibiotics, and I took them for a good 3 weeks. I asked for pain meds too–not Tylenol 3 because I hate that sh*t–and he gave me Norco (which I only needed until the antibiotics kicked in, maybe 3 days). I was in A LOT of pain. Nipples were all sorts of inflamed and I could hardly stand to nurse BG.

BG was teething her top teeth, which is what caused the infection in the first place because she broke the skin around my nipples, and it just wouldn’t heal. I’m a 2x veteran of nursing with open wounds/mastitis now.

In order to heal, I had to pull her off when she latched in a way that irritated/put pressure on my wounds. BG would scream and cry, not understanding why I was denying her. I had to try all sorts of weird positions to prevent new injuries and heal the old ones. We were both miserable.

Oh, and Mr. MLACS was living/working in Texas so I was 100% on my own.

While all this was happening, I was desperately trying to convince BG to take a sippy cup. Up to this point, she was only taking the breast and I was exhausted of nursing her *constantly* throughout the day. Around this time I ran out of f*cks to give if anyone was offended about me nursing in public. BG was too big for a nursing cover and I had lost any inhibitions I initially had. Granted, I tried to be discreet. If anyone was offended they didn’t have the balls to tell me.

Then one fine day, she just up and decided to drink from a sippy cup!!! I was overjoyed! This was just as I was healing from the mastitis, and I think we were both ready for the change.

This was a real game-changer, because if she was just thirsty then she would take a sippy cup, and nursing went from being her main source of nutrition and hydration, to primarily a source of comfort. BG still nursed a lot, but we could go a couple hours without (whereas before we could not).

I was not ready to start giving BG milk (doc said to wait until 12 months and that was also my gut feeling) so she just had water.

BG’s appetite for solid food increased as her nursing decreased, and she started to want to feed herself. So I started giving her finger foods in addition to purees (around 10 months). She started eating puffs, avocado, banana, etc.

I’m not sure exactly when (around 11 months?) but I had been feeding BG squeeze packs of organic food–I would put them in a dish and then spoon-feed her. But I decided to just hand her a squeeze pack one day to see if she could figure out how to drink it, and she sucked it right down!

This was another game changer, both good and bad. Good–because BG could now feed herself and I didn’t need to spoon feed her (also they are great to carry around in the diaper bag for meals on-the-go). Bad–because BG started rejecting me spoon feeding her, and to this day I have a bunch of freezer burnt puree cubes in my fridge. I even bought refillable squeeze pouches to serve my homemade purees in, but she turned up her nose. Hurumph.

Up to that point, I had been feeding BG homemade pureed chicken stew and beef stew for protein. But then she turned her nose up at those–I think the texture annoyed her. So at this point (circa 11.5 months) I decided to introduce organic whole milk yogurt squeeze packs at breakfast, for protein. BG loved them! I watched for a reaction (to milk protein) but the only thing I noticed was she pooped more often, so no adverse reaction.

I then tried organic whole milk in her sippy cup, but BG wasn’t into it.

BG’s first birthday came and went. I started to notice some things–she went from looking quite thin, to looking bloated. Her face and tummy became quite round. But that was not a problem for me, just an observation. The strange thing is she would have a flat tummy/normal face when she woke up, and then become bloated during the day. I also noticed that she would start straining to poop in her high chair immediately after she ate her yogurt. Like her face would turn red and a vein would pop out on her forehead, and I would go pick her up and soothe her to relax her bowel contractions–this was a red flag. I emailed the doc to ask if she thought BG might be dairy intolerant, and the doc said I could try taking out dairy for 2 weeks and then slowly reintroducing it to see. But since dairy was BG’s only real source of protein (she poo poo’d meat/poultry and was fickle about beans) I hesitated.

We went for BG’s 12 month check-up at 13 months (bit delayed) and again I asked if she thought BG was having issues with dairy, and again she said I could try omitting it (apparently I was hoping for another answer). Doc said she really doesn’t need milk, especially since I’m still breastfeeding.

Luckily, I didn’t have to make the decision to omit/keep dairy, because BG started refusing the yogurt. It seems she tolerates a modest amount of cheese or dairy cooked into foods (like quiche) but reacts when there’s too much. This is exactly how I am with dairy, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

I should rewind and tell you that from the point that she started taking the sippy cup, her frequency of nursing dramatically declined. At this time she had also become more mobile, so she was distracted by cruising and playing. We have now dwindled down to nursing upon waking, nursing to sleep for 2 naps, and nursing at bedtime. I only rarely need to nurse her in public, and it’s purely for comfort. Not only has the frequency declined, but so has the duration. BG would “camp out” on my breasts–seriously, she would nurse for hours and stay latched while she slept (we co-sleep). Nowadays she *might* nurse for 30 minutes if she’s teething or otherwise uncomfortable, but generally 10-15 minutes is the max.

I am still taking Domperidone for my milk supply. When BG stsrted taking the sippy cup I weaned down to 4 pills + More Milk Plus at night. Now I take 2-3 pills + More Milk Plus at night. I’m not sure I really even need the Domperidone anymore.

I have mixed feelings about weaning.

On one hand, I miss my body autonomy. Sometimes after a long day spent either catering to BG’s demands *or* incurring her toddler wrath when I do not capitulate… I am SICK of her and do not want to be touched. Inevitably, these are the nights when BG can’t get to sleepand insists on nursing (while thrashing around) for an hour. And I grit my teeth and let her, because I’m tired of dealing with her. But after 30 or 45 minutes of her tugging my nipple in every direction, I cannot stand it and I kick her off the boob. Then she wails. Which drives me insane. And I either switch boobs and let her try again, or let her cry herself to sleep while pushing her away from my boobs. It’s pathetic, and this happens fairly often.

On the other hand, I love bonding with her. The nursing relationship is unlike any other. As she and I are both striving to gain independence, these quiet moments together are more rare and precious. Currently we are laying on the bed; she is latched and sleeping. Her little body is pressed against mine. My nose is grazing the top of her head. Her hand is on my chest. We are one. I feel whole. I feel peaceful. I feel grateful.

I am not ready to quit.