Jaws V

Just when you thought you were safe from the breastfeeding talk.... Dun DUN Dun DUN Dun DUN.

You know when you're single and everyone says, "Love will happen when you stop looking," or something nauseating that you are not even hearing even if there is the remote possibility that it will turn out to be true? Well, the same "forget about it" principle apparently applies to milk production. With the safety net of formula supplementation, I've sort of let go of my milk obsession and I've been producing, if not copious extra to have on hand at all times, at least enough to feel pretty psyched about my output instead of constantly disappointed. As many of you know who have been through it, this comes with the non-desired side effect of messing up my carefully restored peaceful nursing mojo (we had to re-learn proper latching after a seemingly endless bout of thrush nipples). What's been happening for the past couple of days is that HR seems to be getting so much so fast that he pulls back and whines and treats my nipples like Stretch Armstrong. Ow for me, and I feel bad for any discomfort it causes for him. I guess there's really no way to win in the game of breastfeeding, except for, you know, the babies in the end. But that's the important thing. This blip will pass, and again it's nice to not worry about making enough. I have to think of it this way: I plan to nurse for seven more months give or take, but I get to raise this dude who makes me smile constantly for a lot longer than that so any aggravation has been worth it.

I was sure that I got the awesomest baby available since the minute he was born, maybe even before that, but he just gets more awesome by the day. By the second. When I hold him facing me now he puts his little hands on either side of my face. In his mind I guess he thinks he can hold it still so he can eat my nose off, but in my mind he's doing something unspeakably precious. In a way, we're both right.