There is nothing better in this world for me than nursing my kids.
Ask any momma, and she will tell you that it is a very time consuming, self-less but beautiful thing to do. Isaiah will be two in July. I don't see us parting ways anytime soon. And that is ok with me.
I use to think about all of the things that I had to get done while I was nursing. I could be using this time to wash that ever growing pile of laundry, or scrub the bathroom from top to bottom because let's face it, with four boys, I really should be scrubbing it three times a day, and I'm lucky to get to it once or twice a week. The to-do list is never ending and the constraints on my time are more noticeable now with a wide range of ages present.
With these last two kiddos, I learned to enjoy and appreciate nursing. Those eyes that have no other recourse but to stare directly into mine is something that I will never take for granted. The way their little hands caress or grab onto my shirt like they never want to let go packs such a powerful punch it brings tears to my eyes. Of course it's probably just a reflex on their part if they feel me moving away, but still, it never fails to move me.
Now, I think of all the things that are happening right now. Like the eyelashes that slowly move up and down. An obvious indicator that sleep is just around the corner. To me it signifies the end of a morning that was spent playing and eating and laughing. Or the evening rituals of bathtime, lotioning little bodies, and tucking ourselves into the corner of the couch for some time together. And those smiles. The crease in the corners of the mouth, smiling, but never allowing for his lips to break latch. That makes me smile just thinking about it.
As I was commenting to the pediatrician on how Isaiah still wakes at night to nurse, he kindly suggested that if I wanted to get a good night's rest, then I should stop nursing. His exact words were, "You are just one huge, warm pacifier to him."