Written With One Hand

There's a baby clinging to my boob as I write this.

Yeah, you read that correctly. There's a baby clinging to my boob. Luckily it's my baby. Luckily I'm fairly used to her holding on for dear life to that particular boob, and the one beside it, many times each day.

I have been pretty upfront about my love for breastfeeding, since BABY was born over six months ago. Our routine - co-sleeping for part of the night - has worked really well for us. For me mostly. But for her too. Since it's just the two of us, and I am also extra careful almost to the blistering levels of OCD, I felt comfortable. Safe. It worked for late night feedings, sleeping through the night, bonding and it was so damn cute. Cuddling with her meant that I could drink in all of the baby-ness while she was still a baby. However, too much of a good thing is a bad thing.

I'm afraid that I have created a monster.

We're right in the middle of sleep regression. A few weeks ago she would take naps in the crib (astonishing since she wanted no part of that for her first few months) and I put her down there at bedtime. A few weeks ago, I would bring her into bed for a nighttime feeding and we slept together until morning. A few weeks ago, she would use a pacifier for sleep support - even reaching for it herself if I left it in the crib.

Now she wants no part of cribs, pacifiers, being by herself. Now she wants me - and importantly my boobs - all the time! She wants to nurse to sleep and during sleep. She wants to nurse all the time. She wants to sleep with me. She wants me to hold her. Whether it's teething or a growth spurt, I don't know. I'm hoping it's a phase. I'm not sure if all this breastfeeding will be cool when she starts high school.

So, if you haven't seen me on Facebook, there's no word on Twitter, or I'm not responding to emails, just know that there's a baby clinging to my boob. I'll get back to you when she lets go.

~ humps