Theo is a total rock-star at nursing.
No really, a rock-star. As in, up all night, no sleep, boob-obsession, rock-star. I say to my husband that I am over breastfeeding him probably once a day. I feel so touched-out. I wish desperately for him to sleep longer than two hours. I want to try on clothes in a fitting room without having to make sure my breasts are easily accessible. After nine months of pregnancy and eight months of exclusively breastfeeding, I want to just have my body be, well, mine.
But kids are amazing at finding ways to make you forget the bad stuff. This is the dangerous thing that makes people have more than one kid, why Santa still brings Christmas gifts to the naughty, and this is why I still nurse my ever-demanding baby. I am doing what is best for him, yes, but also for me. Breastfeeding allows me to experience selflessness, love, dedication, devotion, and my son's gratitude every
Oh, and I DARE you to tell me to cover up.
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