Sunday, August 21, 2011

Anjali Weaned

One of the most beautiful sights I've ever witnessed happened when I was a teenager:  a young mother cuddling her red newborn to the breast, her hair tumbling down around them, and her shoulder exposing her pale skin.  It plays in my mind in a fuzzy glow.  I always assumed I would breastfeed my children, probably because my mother breastfed me and my sister, but this just sealed the deal.  It's amazing that 9 years later I still remember it so clearly.  

There is no greater high than holding your child's tiny warm body close to your heart and know that your body is providing the ultimate nutrition.  Their big eyes looking up at you with complete trust.  Their heart beat is yours.

My husband is the one who made it happen.  He let the hospital know of my wishes.  He massaged and pumped my breasts for 3 days while I was in a coma.  He bought me pump after pump and told me how lucky our baby was I was attempting to nurse.  Some nights he would lay Anjali next to me and prop my breast in her mouth himself!

My beautiful girl is now 4 years and 7 months.  We have endured a coma, what I thought was low supply, thrush (many times), tongue tie, severe reflux, and severe allergies to soy and milk proteins.  Along the way we have both cried and screamed out of frustration but, most importantly, we learned to love each other.

I'm sad that this point in our lives ended but feel proud of all I have provided my daughter with.  I hope that when she is grown she will fondly remember nursing and pass that love to her children.

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