Friday, August 25, 2006

My first week as her mother

I had no milk. My daughter had gone on full breast-feeding for six days, and yet I had no milk. That Friday evening, I spent the whole night up and about, playing her music ("Enjoy the Silence", Tori Amos' version) and a few lullabies so she could go to sleep. She looked pale, shrivelled, and upset.

I held her upon my breast for as long as I could until she fell asleep while feeding.

But I had no milk. After two hours, she woke up, and I was denied any possibility of getting a good night's sleep.

In the morning, a frantic father and an anxious, helpless mother rushed their hungry child to a clinic, fed her promptly, and decided that breast-feeding was not the best recourse for their eldest daughter.

Thus the stories began: the birth of an instinctively protective mother who, to this day, holds her daughter close to her bosom even as the little one trots away independently as the years pace; and, the three-year recovery of a tired yet grateful heart.


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