It’s funny how, when I hear Zac wake up for the 7th time at night, I immediately think, ugggh, I need to fix this bad sleep bullshit.
But when I go into his room and lay down next to him, I forget about it.
All I can think about is how perfectly his little body fits in between the space of my bent knee and my chest. His little arm stretches out and grabs on to my shirt, holding me tight while he searches for his comfort, before drifting back off to sleep.
He won’t always fit here. And one day our breastfeeding relationship will be over.
I hate myself sometimes, especially in these moments, for even thinking about sleep training.
I know that his sleep needs some fixing, he’s completely reliant on nursing to sleep. And wakes up every single sleep cycle, which is hard on both of us.
But I just don’t want to say goodbye to these moments. And if he does ever sleep through the night, not requiring nursing to fall asleep, these moments will stop. And soon he will be too big to fit in the space between my bent knee and my chest. His arms won’t be little. And maybe he won’t need me as much.