by Tara Lykins
 I'm not sure when it happened
exactly. I don't even know that it was instantaneous, but somewhere
along the way I have fallen helplessly in love with my children.
My son, Dustin, the light of my life, was born after
a long, miserable pregnancy. My biggest fear while I was in labor was
that he would be ugly and that I wouldn't love him. Irrational, yes,
but a real fear nonetheless. After 35 hours of labor, I was rewarded
with the most perfect looking newborn I have ever seen. His head was
round, his little chubby body was red, and he had big blue eyes. In
one word - beautiful. I didn't get to hold him right away. The
hospital I was at didn't put the baby on mom's chest right away,
they cleaned him up first. My mom and my husband ooed and awed over
the baby as they cleaned him up. When the nurse handed me my little
cherub, my heart bubbled over. The nurse showed me how to hold him,
wake him and nurse him while my husband and mom looked on. My fears
disappeared as I held and nursed my new baby.
Months flew by after we left the hospital. Dustin
started rolling, sitting and walking so quickly it seems. A year into
this parenting adventure, my son weaned from the breast. This was
monumental because I thought that it showed how grown up he was
becoming. Little did I know about the feelings of worthlessness I
would experience because of this event. I felt like he didn't need
me anymore and I wasn't sure how to move on. In short time though,
we adapted and found new ways to bond. It is at this time when our
special mornings began.
I started giving him a cup of milk in the mornings
as he sat on my lap and cuddled. Even when he didn't want me to hold
him anymore during the day as he played, and when he learned to put
himself to sleep without me rocking him, he sat on my lap each morning
for a cuddle and a glass of milk. Now, at the age of three, he is
still drinking milk and cuddling with me each morning. This is our
special time together, I get teary-eyed knowing that one day, this too
will end.
When Dustin was 2 1/2 years old, our little princess
Dorothy joined the family.
She came into this world on one of the most tragic
days in recent American history. I lay in my hospital bed and watched
the second World Trade Center tower collapse eight minutes after she
was born.
Dorothy was not the most perfect baby at birth, her
head was severely bruised and she had also sucked some fluid into her
lungs during delivery. The NICU was called to come monitor her
breathing. I don't think I have ever prayed as much as I did that
day. I prayed for my baby to be healthy and I prayed that the United
States wouldn't come under further attack.
As the fates would have, Dorothy's breathing
cleared up and there were no further attacks on US soil, after
September 11. Soon enough we were home and after a small incident the
night of our hospital discharge, we settled into a now familiar
routine.
My Dorothy has a sweet disposition and loves to be
held; though she doesn't often fuss when she is put down. I love
coming home at night and curling up in our big blue chair to nurse her
after a long day, as Dustin plays at my feet. Dorothy is growing every
day and has started cruising across the furniture. I think that maybe
her favorite thing in this world is to nurse, which is why there is no
end in sight for our nursing relationship.
Though I don't regret any decisions I have made as
a parent, I have learned many things with Dustin that I am now doing
differently with Dorothy. I don't pressure her to grow up, she will
soon enough with, or without my prodding. I didn't jump on the wagon
to start solids early. I feel no pressure to wean her as she turns
one. We are all learning together with new experiences each day.
Dustin and Dorothy play together every night as my
husband and I cook dinner. Sometimes I am able to peak in on them
without their knowledge. As I watch the bond between them grow, I fall
in love all over again with them as individuals and with them
together.
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Breastfeeding
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