I know that I say this a lot, but since Taylor is our last I find myself savoring and prolonging every moment, forcing it to stay in my memories forever. These ordinary moments will always be my “firsts” with Peanut. And these ordinary moments will always be my “lasts” with Taylor. Each holding a special place in my heart.
Every evening after daddy gets the baby into her pjs and read her the bedtime books, I nurse the baby to sleep.
I know that I am supposed to let her fall asleep on her own in her crib, but it’s hard to put her down when she’s still nursing, making gurgly little sounds, nuzzling me. She starts to slow down and I cradle her head and run my finger along the temple. She sighs and I breath out, realizing I was holding my breath again.
These evening nursing session, right before she falls asleep, are my little piece of heaven. Among the noise and the laughter and the crying and the barking, there are these 15-20 minutes when it’s just me and Taylor, behind a closed door that mumbles the noise and lets us escape into our own little world. We rock on the chair, the dog laying by my feet.
She starts to slow down, mostly just laying there for comfort rather than nursing and I startle her to switch sides.
After a brief panic that she’s been removed from her cozy spot, she settles back in and lets out a happy sigh, followed by gurgling and gulping. I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling. The painful moments that come along with the first couple of weeks of nursing the baby are gone and instead it’s just this wonderful feeling that I am providing my baby with what she needs. I pick at her ear, her scalp, running my fingers along every inch accessible to me. She squirms when I touch the back of her neck and lets out a little giggle as I scratch her back.
She starts to slow down again, letting out a sleepy sigh and closing her eyes. I watch her as her breathing deepens and she starts to slip into sleep.
In the back of my mind, the thoughts I can’t quiet no matter how much I try, I urge myself to set her down before she’s in her deep sleep. But I don’t. I rock her, petting her soft hair. She’s our last. I won’t get to do this again. And, selfishly, I’m not willing to let her go just yet. I let her stay latched, soundly asleep. I rock her some more.
My husband peeks around the door, checking on us. I pretend that she’s still eating and wave him away.
This is our little piece of heaven and I’m not ready to give it up.