First of all, before I get to what I've written recently, I want to share one of those a ha! moments, as Oprah coined them. I thought there was a right way to feed a baby. I thought there was a right schedule to be kept, so somehow, the baby learned how to eat rightly. Now I see that no, there isn't a right way, there is the way that works for that particular baby and mother. I've learned a lot, in retrospect, about my feeding habits with Salamander. I needed more support than I realized or sought, but...oh well! At least we're doing great now. In that same vein, some more of what I've been writing on paper, transferred here for you all to read...
I have to admit my own mistake. I thought I had to teach Salamander something rather than know I just had to feed him. Well, now the boy eats. He SO eats and it's a joy to listen to him snore after he's fallen asleep eating his last bottle of the night.
I thought it had to be all from me. I was unconsciously out to prove something with breastfeeding. This proud, stubborn piece of me mistakenly took on showing some people how it could and should be, instead of realizing THIS is NOT about THAT. This is a new life we're feeding here, not my life we're making proof as success out of.
Back to Salamander snoring. That was a couple nights ago and it was painfully precious. He fell asleep in my arms in the rocking chair. The bottle dropped out of his mouth and tiny fists and he positively gurgled like some fat old man with sleep apnea. In a grown person it could have been a gross sound but in this tiny boy it was purely hysterical. I had to bite my lip from bursting out.
|"more eggs please"|