Home Sweet Home

Before we left the hospital the lactation specialist met with us briefly. I listened to her explain that often babies "wake up" the first night they are at home and want to be held close all night long. She was right. The quiet, content baby I had known at the hospital couldn't have needed her mama more those first nights we were home. I wasn't prepared for those nights. Aya would nurse and nurse and nurse and nurse but still not settle down or stay asleep when she was done. She would suckle peacefully, finish asleep, but then suddenly reawaken and cry some more. I felt like the only way to calm her and soothe her to sleep was to feed her once again. While this pattern seemed to comfort Aya for the moment, it also made me even sorer than I already was. Breastfeeding became more and more uncomfortable and I started to resent the fact I wasn't sleeping at all and that I was hurting. I started to feel really exhausted. In fact, the only way I could get little bean (my nickname for Aya) to sleep without nursing was to lay her on my chest. She would swim up under my neck and finally let herself dream. She was beautifully compact against my chest. Each little movement reminded me of the movement I felt while she was still cozy inside of my belly and I wondered if she was trying to recreate the womb. I might have loved this familiar, nurturing position more, except for the fact that I couldn't seem to fall asleep while she slept. So, eventually she would wake again to eat, I would feed her (while I felt a lot of pain), and she would then cry again until finally finding that sweet spot high up on my chest, nestled underneath my chin. I felt drained and unable to lay in awe of my sleeping miracle.