Pretty Baby

I pressed that photo of Momma to my heart and knew then, bawling my eyes out in the backyard of some stranger’s home, on my knees in the vanishing March snow, that Momma was there even if she wasn’t there.
Momma would never, ever, ever in a million years leave me.

I came home late, drunk, giddy, sensing no jealousy in Chris as I most certainly would have felt if the situation were reversed.

She needed me. As she needed me to rock her to sleep, to change her diaper, but unlike those things, this—breastfeeding—was the one thing only I could provide for her. It was something only I could give.

There was no need to prepare bottles, to wash bottles and, more than anything, I felt an intimacy to my newborn,

But for me, it was also about convenience. It was far more convenient for those late-night feedings to simply place baby Zoe on my breast

to each his own

Whoever said motherhood was easy...

We don’t have much, but at least we have each other

love you like a bee loves honey. I love you like peanut butter loves jelly. I love you like a fish loves water.

I love you like a squirrel loves nuts,