The Breastfeeding Diaries: Chantal from Scattered Seashells
This beautiful, sweet, and charming breastfeeding story is brought to you today by Chantal from Scattered Seashells. I promise you will be glad you read it......
My daughter has the most beautiful eyes. They are small and rimmed with long, thick eyelashes. The color is amazing, a mix of blue and green and gray, with a ring of yellow right around the pupils, just like mine. They are so bright and full of fun, play, and a tiny bit of toddler wisdom. I've spent the better part of her life trying to capture them on film, but there is no better time to see them than when I'm nursing her.
Penny is a busy girl, a spirited young toddler at 22 months, a girl who cannot be stopped. All day long she is buzzing from this room to that. In one hand could be a block, and the other a book, and the next moment she could drop both of those for her favorite stuffed animal. If I ask for a hug and kiss, she responds with a playful scream as she runs away down the hall. If I want to spy those pretty eyes, I have to catch her and hold her down, brushing away that unruly hair from her face, if she lets me.
But when I'm nursing her, even for those few moments, the craziness stops. She looks up at me with those beautiful eyes as calm washes over both of us. My baby, my toddler, my daughter.
I remember the first time I nursed her. Her birth was a cesarean and my husband took her back to the recovery room while they finished stitching me in the operating room. For 45 minutes he held a crying baby against his chest, waiting for me to come back. They wheeled me in and I took her into my arms, lost in a daze, and this crying baby that was mine quieted down immediately as she latched on and filled her tummy.
Now here we are, over 22 months later. I can't believe it! My breastfeeding goal had always been a year, and then we would see what happens after that. Despite an effort to wean, though not a strong effort, our breastfeeding relationship is still going strong.
I've learned in the past few months that breastfeeding a toddler is not for the faint-hearted. She can talk now, so when she gets the idea that she wants to nurse, she starts clawing at my chest demanding her "mil-mil." She can understand when I say no, not now, though it upsets her. When she is nursing, half the time she is trying to stand, moving this way and that, wiggling with all that energy that courses through her body. Always moving!
Except when she's tired, and then she's cradled in my arms, a far cry from the less-than-7-pound baby that was mine 22 months ago. Then, I had to use a pillow to prop her little body up. Now, she drapes across my lap, her legs hanging off the side, her long arms reaching my nose, my mouth, my eyes.
Her eyes are still the same, though, and I'm lucky that I've been able to have these moments throughout each day to look at them. I know I'll miss the opportunity to relax with her once our breastfeeding time has finished.
Penny is a busy girl, a spirited young toddler at 22 months, a girl who cannot be stopped. All day long she is buzzing from this room to that. In one hand could be a block, and the other a book, and the next moment she could drop both of those for her favorite stuffed animal. If I ask for a hug and kiss, she responds with a playful scream as she runs away down the hall. If I want to spy those pretty eyes, I have to catch her and hold her down, brushing away that unruly hair from her face, if she lets me.
But when I'm nursing her, even for those few moments, the craziness stops. She looks up at me with those beautiful eyes as calm washes over both of us. My baby, my toddler, my daughter.
I remember the first time I nursed her. Her birth was a cesarean and my husband took her back to the recovery room while they finished stitching me in the operating room. For 45 minutes he held a crying baby against his chest, waiting for me to come back. They wheeled me in and I took her into my arms, lost in a daze, and this crying baby that was mine quieted down immediately as she latched on and filled her tummy.
Now here we are, over 22 months later. I can't believe it! My breastfeeding goal had always been a year, and then we would see what happens after that. Despite an effort to wean, though not a strong effort, our breastfeeding relationship is still going strong.
I've learned in the past few months that breastfeeding a toddler is not for the faint-hearted. She can talk now, so when she gets the idea that she wants to nurse, she starts clawing at my chest demanding her "mil-mil." She can understand when I say no, not now, though it upsets her. When she is nursing, half the time she is trying to stand, moving this way and that, wiggling with all that energy that courses through her body. Always moving!
Except when she's tired, and then she's cradled in my arms, a far cry from the less-than-7-pound baby that was mine 22 months ago. Then, I had to use a pillow to prop her little body up. Now, she drapes across my lap, her legs hanging off the side, her long arms reaching my nose, my mouth, my eyes.
Her eyes are still the same, though, and I'm lucky that I've been able to have these moments throughout each day to look at them. I know I'll miss the opportunity to relax with her once our breastfeeding time has finished.
If you would like to contribute your story to the Breastfeeding Diaries series, please email me at thegirlintheredshoes @ gmail
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