Why do long holiday weekends always seem so short?
I love the moments that I get to spend with Mr. S, and always anticipate those rare occasions when a three-day weekend comes along, although I admit that it’s always very hard to get back to our usual daily routine afterwards, particularly when afternoon pumping sessions become afternoon nursing sessions that inevitably become pumping sessions once more. The change doesn’t physically affect me, but even after more than 14 months of this steadfast routine, it’s still emotionally challenging. I dread his return to work because I ache for him in the afternoon, longing to lie quietly together, and nurse him as sunlight spills into our bedroom, and, for just a few sweet moments, amid the wonderful chaos of marriage and parenthood, there is nothing but peace, when the world belongs only to us. Mr. S admits that the only thing he finds difficult about those stolen moments of mid-afternoon suckling is his ability to stay awake afterwards. Nursing makes him drowsy. I love to watch him sleep against my breast. I will have to exchange my love’s gentle mouth for the whirr and pull of an electric pump, but I’ll get used to it quickly enough, and everything will be just fine–and back to our version of “normal”–by the end of the week. This is the life of a nursing wife. Even with the additional balancing and little adjustments I often have to make, I would not trade this part of my life for anything.
My parents kept the children on Friday evening so Mr. S and I could enjoy some private time, and it was so wonderful to reconnect. He took me to one of our favorite Greek restaurants, a quaint, out of the way place, where we shared good food and even better conversation, and made it home in time for our nightly nursing. It was closer to midnight when we began, but I wasn’t concerned because not only were we able to connect inside our personal “window of opportunity”, I have found that now that my milk supply is well established, I can go a little longer between sessions without incident, so I stress a lot less about finding a discreet place to pump or express right on the dot.
We thought the children would be home by 10:00 the following morning, but my mother called to see if she could keep them until 4:00. Although I don’t typically nurse off of schedule if I don’t absolutely have to, Mr. S suggested an impromptu mid-morning suckling session, and how could I possibly refuse myself the chance to connect with him in such an intimate way, or say no to such a sweet request? It was so liberating; because we were alone, discretion wasn’t much of a priority, and it was very nice to nurse so freely. Moments like those are so perfect and so rare, and I’m very grateful to have them.
Normally, Sunday afternoons are reserved for family lunches and little get-togethers that we take turns hosting after church, but because of the long weekend, the date was changed to the 29th instead. Mr. S golfed in the morning, and we made it to my parents just after 3:00, which worked out perfectly for me. The weather was beautiful, and it was nice to spend time with family, and reflect on the things that make my life so incredibly good.
It was even almost possible to forget that my daughter’s little bestie is having a birthday party next Saturday, and parents are invited, too, and that the festivities are set to begin at 2:00, right when I typically maintain. Well…almost.