a sweet story at last / August 16, 2008

I pick 3-month-old Benji up and hold him in the crook of my arm to nurse him. He is kicking his legs, wiggling, and grunting impatiently as I pull up my shirt and unhook my bra. As soon as he latches on, he seems to breathe a sigh of relief, and his legs stop kicking. He sucks happily. He looks up at me with his deep blue eyes. Sometimes, I smile at him, and he smiles back at me, and my nipple falls out of his mouth. Little milk dribbles slide down his cheek. It makes me laugh. He latches back on and sucks hungrily. I offer him my finger and he makes a little fist around it. He opens and closes his fingers around mine. His eyes start to roll back in his head. He lifts his right arm up and rubs his hair with it. He can barely keep his eyes open now. Finally, I hear the swallowing noises stop, and he's just sucking for the sake of sucking, his eyes closed, his little face peaceful. I pull my nipple out of his mouth, and for a second, he makes a little frown. Then he stretches both arms over his head, grunts, and falls asleep.

In moments like this, I feel more love and gratefulness that I can describe.