Lactation Anticipation

For the past few nights, I've been dreaming of nothing but breastfeeding. Breastfeeding Sam, breastfeeding the new baby, breastfeeding random babies on the street. My titties are always available for around-the-clock snacking.

Those of you from 'round the way know that I struggled with weaning Sam. Honestly, if I hadn't gotten pregnant again I think we would just now be starting the process. When I was pregnant with him I bought a pump and sterilized dozens of bottled. I planned on nursing initially, but I didn't think I was the type of mom who was going to continue for longer than six months. Ha. Cut to fourteen months later and I'm weeping over Sam's crib after every time I nurse him, fearing it may have been our last session. This time I haven't even washed a bottle, and the pump is still in a box somewhere in the closet.

I've had moments during this pregnancy when I stop and try to be aware of what my body is doing. This is, in all likelihood, my last pregnancy, and I want to try and remember all the moments, good and bad. But I find it difficult, now that I'm nearing the end, to not fixate on the future. All of the things I'm looking forward to once the baby comes.

I can't wait to hold the baby close to my body and feed her. I can't wait to smell her little milky breath when she falls asleep in my arms. To be the one she needs, at least for a while. I'm not foolish enough to imagine that it's going to be all sleeping babies and heavenly peace. I know there will be days (many, many days) that I will be exhausted. I know that I will have nipples cracked and bleeding. There will be days when I ache for someone else to meet her needs.

But maybe when those moments strike, I can come back to this. This moment, these feelings. At least, I hope I can.