for the past couple of nights, M's nursing sessions have shortened dramatically. aside from the fact that this pretty much guarantees a plugged duct, it made me.. well.. SAD. this is our thing, our nightly ritual - bath, jammies, sleep sack, lullaby, nursing, rocking, bed. i'm not sure if its teething, developmental things, the fact that our co-sleeping means that he is nursing more in the middle of the night, or it may be the new lovey "nancy" that has distracted my boy from the boob. so tonight as i was rocking him, he was squirming around and i thought, oh, he just wants to be in his bed, he doesn't want to be rocked. it took me a while to figure that out and when i put him down he rolled onto his belly and wiggled his bum and prepared for sleep. and i stood above him, my sweet baby boy, in his little crib, and i watched him, and i didn't know what to do with myself because our nighttime routine is clearly not only for him, apparently i need it, too.
on monday M will be 9 months.. 9 months in, 9 months out.. amazing. solids are slowly taking over, new tastes and textures are more exciting then the same old milk. i hope to always be comfort to him, but now with the crawling, he's all about moving.. sometimes away from me.. usually away from me.. and i know we're in the midst of great changes - extraordinary changes, development, mil(o)stones.. but im realizing how much i love these quiet moments.. the dark room, the noise machine, M in my arms, the nursing that in the beginning was
so hard, that has become so wonderful, who's end might be near, those moments.. oh those moments.. i will never forget a night of it. every time i question my decisions about staying home i think of our evenings together, of being in that room, brushing his hair back as he nurses, his little breaths between sips, humming a dylan or marley tune to him, nothing else mattering, just us.. only us..
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