I have to share something. A story I want to remember when Lucy is trying to convince me why she has to spend her last summer before college backpacking in the Alaskan wilderness and that she'll be perfectly safe and can take care of herself.
Lucy was in her baby wrap belly-to-belly with me and we were working out. Lucy stays pretty content and entertained any time I wear her and was giggling through the first set of squats and lunges. The giggles quickly turned in to her hunger fuss and I knew if I didn't stop soon...well, that fuss can escalate quickly. I was trying to at least finish one more set when I noticed something. Lucy had stopped fussing and was bobbing her head around like she does when she's trying to find me to nurse in the mornings. I decided to just be still and see what happens. With her eyes closed, she freed her arm and eventually pulled down my tank top and continued to bob around until she found what she was looking for and latched on, sighing as she began filling her tummy. After I finished cracking up and hollering for Steven to come look at what his genius daughter just did, I almost teared up in awe.
Nursing did not come easy for me, something I did not expect. At three weeks, Lucy had done so much damage I was instructed to pump for however long it took to let myself heal. As much as I wanted to feel better and even though Lucy was still going to be getting breast milk, it devastated me. I was so worried that she would get confused and not understand why her boob was taken away and then have a hard time going back. I now see that my hormones might have still been playing a part in the incessant worrying and need to overreact, but at the time it felt like this awful, horrible, legitimate, HUGE DEAL. I cried and cried and prayed and prayed. I wonder if it was a first for God to hear so many prayers and pleas about healing nipples and preventing nipple confusion?
In the end, Lucy was 8 weeks before I was fully healed and we got a hang of it. For Lucy, it was like she never skipped a beat. For Mama, breastfeeding will go down in my book of challenges. Right up there with camping on frozen lakes in -40 degree weather, working with juvenile delinquents, learning to snowboard in the Rockies, and my own backpacking trip across the Alaskan wilderness.
Which brings me back to the wonder of what I witnessing. All that worry when I should have been remembering who created Lucy. You know, that same God who feeds the birds and dresses the flowers, numbers the stars and grains of sands and the hairs on our heads. With as needy and dependant as babies are, they are born to survive and thrive. It was so impressive to see my sweet baby girl not worrying about her next meal, she was given the innate ability to get what she needed. Smiling, I thanked God for the opportunity to provide my baby with the nourishment she needs. I thanked Him for the lesson in patience and perseverance, one I hope will make me a better mother.
Then I basked in the brilliance of my little 11 week old go-getter. Lucy continued to eat. I got to finish my workout.
