I lie awake with my baby girl snuggled in beside me. She suckles softly as I drift in and out of sleep. She plays with my chain, and every now and again her tiny little fingers reach up to strum at my bottom lip. I look down and her big blue eyes pierce through my heart; even in the dark.
I have been so very lucky to have breastfeeding come naturally to me. I had a rough start with Hayden, but hey, he was my first so there was 2 people who had no idea what they were doing. But I persevered and struggled through the tears and after about 10 days, we were off and running.
With Lucy, I had some attachment problems in hospital, but at least one of us knew what we were doing then, so I would sit in the dark for hours pulling her off and making her re-attach. It paid off, and on leaving hospital, she was nursing beautifully.
Even after my caesarians, I would usually spend the first 24-48 hours, shirtless, baby on my chest as much as I possibly can, feeding whenever they wanted. There is nothing more magical than a fresh newborn baby, curled up, sleeping naked on my bare chest.
I love the sense of total dependancy a breastfed baby has on me. No one else can feed them. It is something that is totally mine. I love that no matter how sick or hurt a babe is, as soon as they start to suckle, all their worries disappear.
I have never had any problems nursing. Not past the first few days. Until Camille.
My baby girl has been very ill this week. Terrible cold and a hideous cough. She has been feeding more at some times, and less at others. I think because of this, I now have mastitis.
I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Horrible. Painful. Draining.
I also had it when she was 5 weeks old. I have no idea why. I didn't do anything differently than with my first 4 babes. It was a complete shock.
I continue to feed, wincing through the pain, and looking at the big blue eyes that look up at me in the dark.
It is worth all the pain.