~by Kimberly VanderHorst

My newborn was born starving-hungry. Holding her slight weight against us in the hospital, we could feel the wiggling of her tummy and hear the deep rumbling bubbly sounds of her cavernous innards. While she’s a champion nurser she just can’t get enough into her stomach before she falls asleep and as a result has to nurse almost constantly to stay contented.

And so I pump. And so there is bottle paraphernalia everywhere. And so I feel horribly, horribly defensive. Like I have to explain to everyone who chances to see that it’s not MY fault. That she nurses for comfort only and that the bottle is necessary. That the bottles are full of MY milk and I’m working hard to stay ahead of her needs so that there is always Mommy Milk waiting for her when she needs it.

I need to stop taking myself so seriously, though. I need to learn serenity, to smile quietly and let the defensive feelings go. My baby girl has a full tummy and that is enough. And in the wee hours of the night when she wants something more, I’m able to give her that, too. The skin to skin closeness of mother and child is such a gift.

Such a joy.

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