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You’ve been whiny and fussy and not napping the last two days. Maybe because you miss Daddy, but likely it’s because one of your teeth is coming in, one that is supposed to hurt a lot. You keep waking up hurting, and it makes my heart hurt for you. So when we got home today, I scooped you right to my breast, purse still attached to my arm.
You hungrily buried yourself in my chest, busied yourself with eating while half-asleep. I sat, staring, stroking your face with my finger, and you gently laid your hand on mine.
That tiny hand. Little bitty fingers I love to kiss. You hold my heart in that hand.
We moved to let you nurse on the other side, and the magic was gone. More awake, you did your normal routine of pulling my hair, my lips, my face. Reaching for me with those same sweet little fingers that had been so calm just minutes before.
But still, when you look at me a little cross-eyed, I can see the newborn baby I held in my arms nearly nine months ago. The froggy-legged infant I spent hours with on the couch, just holding and loving.
You don’t like to cuddle much anymore, so this sleepy afternoon feast was a rare treat. I love it all the more for that.