This weekend was tough. Saturday, she was in so much pain that she wouldn't swallow. Rivers of drool flowed down her chin. She refused to swallow... which meant not much eating or drinking. And that meant not much nursing. The first couple of times she nursed, she'd immediately back off and wail in pain. Then it got to the point where she would start crying or actively push herself away from the breast as soon as I offered. My breasts filled and I was reminded of what those first few months felt like (not fun).
I was sad. The one thing that held that small bit of baby (nursing) and I wasn't even getting that. Each time I offered and she refused I felt defeated.
(Thankfully things are back to normal for now, and she's nursing normally. I stayed home on Monday from work to make sure things were good with her, and we had an incredible day.)
So, because she wasn't nursing, she was having trouble getting to sleep. I nurse her to sleep and love it, wouldn't change it. But she had nothing to distract her from the pain her gums were causing, and wouldn't nurse to fall asleep.
I tried everything, but finally I had to break out the Moby wrap, that I'd already packed up for good. As soon as she got in, she stopped crying. It was incredibly different holding a 24-ish pound toddler/kid as opposed to a newborn, but it still worked wonders. We went on a walk in the misty, dewy night. The moon shown, it was quiet but for the crickets, and she fell asleep.
As I walked, I sang and whispered and kissed her head. I thought, She's still my baby. She will always be my baby in my heart, no matter how big she gets or what she learns or how independent she becomes. She's my baby, always.