Since breastfeeding CAN be poetic sometimes, here’s a poem to commemorate our 6 months of (now) happy breastfeeding!
When I Nurse My Baby At Night
He reaches
Hands, tiny fingers
splay, searching
the darkness
for a familiar face.
I feel
soft touches
baby fingers trace
my chin
and lips, nose, cheek.
I close my eyes
And wonder…
How love knows
To see in the dark.
That's beautiful! And I don't even breastfeed! <3
Sounds familiar. My 17-month-old just awoke in the night to nurse…sweet [email protected]
aaahhhh… 🙂
is that your poem? very nice! :)there's really nothing sweeter in the whole world! breastfeeding is amazing therapy. so relaxed, and present in the moment…and how delicate the whole thing is! especially those tiny little fingers, acting with such care. it's a beautiful thing to watch my baby nurse. and the way he looks up, straight into my eyes. right into me. no expectations at all. just PURE, absolute LOVE!!!
That's beautiful! And I don't even breastfeed! <3
Sounds familiar. My 17-month-old just awoke in the night to nurse…sweet [email protected]
aaahhhh… 🙂
is that your poem? very nice! :)there's really nothing sweeter in the whole world! breastfeeding is amazing therapy. so relaxed, and present in the moment…and how delicate the whole thing is! especially those tiny little fingers, acting with such care. it's a beautiful thing to watch my baby nurse. and the way he looks up, straight into my eyes. right into me. no expectations at all. just PURE, absolute LOVE!!!