Maggie and I have been pretty lucky that breastfeeding has been no big deal for us (aside from the trip to the ER at age four days old). Hannah and I were not so lucky. And I have the scars to prove it (yeah, literally. Scars. It was also traumatic for me that, had I lived hundreds of years ago--or even pre-Medela, whenever that might be-my daughter would DIE if I couldn't make this work! Postpartum is not a rational time, is all I'm saying). So I'm grateful for the easy time I've had with Maggie. But I get that it is not always this easy, and I am very sensitive to that. You will never hear me talk about the amazing bond it gives, because I think that is totally insensitive to dads, grandparents, adoptive parents, and women who just can't breastfeed (holding, rocking, feeding, cuddling, etc. are equally legit ways to bond; breastfeeding moms don't have a monopoly on special bonds). You will also never hear me talk about how cheap it is, because that ER bill was almost $300. And they didn't even do anything besides look at her. But what I will talk about, is how cute it is when Maggie is curled up in my arms and I'm nursing her to sleep. No matter how big she seems toddling around the house, seeing her in my arms like that reminds me that she is still very much my little bitty baby. Even if she is walking so much that daycare kicked her out of the nursery and put her in the toddler class.