Breastfed On Momma's Milk, Music and Love

Just a few minutes ago, somehow, I ended up on the floor, singing loudly and terribly to songs on my play-list on the computer, sitting on my knees. Gracie was sitting on my lap, facing me. Snuggling up against my chest. Where she hung-out for so long, in her first several months of life.
She was clearly enjoying this time. Revisiting her old haunt.
She always seems to enjoy it when I sing.

If you heard me sing, you'd have to question Gracie's taste.

I breastfed both the kids.
Went well with Gracie.
Not-so-well with Connor.

Gracie liked to eat.
A lot.

Gracie only liked to be held by mommy.
And no one else would do.

She has since outgrown some of that.
She still likes to eat.
But other people can touch her now.

When we brought Gracie home, she & I occupied the living room as our new bedroom. She was in the pack-n-play, and I on the couch.
Norah (Jones) would come to visit.
As would Alison (Krauss).
And Nickel (Creek).
Dixie (Chicks), Jack (Johnson), Bob (Marley).
Just to name a few.

We had a veritable party going on. To celebrate my baby girl's arrival.
I would nurse at all hours of the day & night. Singing along to music. Right in baby Gracie's ear.
Rarely did I actually speak to her. It was, most always, in the form of a song.

I gave to her so freely. I gave her my heart, my milk, my thoughts, my songs. And she took them. She placed them inside her little baby heart and her little baby mind. And she took them for what they were.
The best of me that I could possibly give.
She did not turn away or cry out in horror at my horrible singing voice.
The warmth of my chest, the tightness of my arms around her, the bare-bones love that flowed back and forth between us was all that was important. The world around us was placed inside of a glass bottle and floated away over all of the oceans and the seas.
We were an island of love, acceptance, humble giving and graciously taking.

Every song I gave to her, was a testament of my love for my baby girl. And just when I thought I had no more songs to sing, I would find another.
Just when I thought I had no more milk to giver her, I was replenishing the stores.
And just when I thought I could not muster up another ounce of love, there it would come. Like a tidal wave, rushing all over us. Receding and then rushing in......and crashing all around us again.

I've had to draw on these simple, beautiful, quiet times. Because I have felt my best self battered a bit. And just when I think I am the worst version of myself, I have to stop.

And I look into the eyes that have been fed on Momma's milk, Momma's love and Momma's music. And in those eyes, I can see that the best of me has been deposited there. It wasn't taken from me, it was handed over lovingly. Where it can bloom and grow and be even bigger and better.
Better than I could have made it.
By myself.

7 ripples in the pond:

deb said...

That's beautiful, gives me hope as well.

Oh, The Joys said...

That's a great post, Tabba. (And I share the living room as a home thing with you... Rooster only moved in with The Mayor in December.)

Tabba said...

We gave up the living room a while ago (thank god)....well, I still end up there when the kids kick me out of bed.....
How is that going...both of them in the same room? I've been thinking of taking Gracie out of her teeny-tiny room & putting her in with Connor.

jen said...

oh honey. that was so, so beautiful.

just like you.

Slackermommy said...

What a beautiful tribute!

carrie said...

Wow. So true, so true!


Vicki said...

Great post