Yesterday marked Harvey's one-month birthday. He celebrated by mostly sleeping all day, while I stayed in bed alternated hot sweats and chills. It looks as though I have a breast infection, with pain and fever and the whole 9-yards of breast infection, a condition I had never considered fearing before Friday night. Who knew this whole nourishing your child thing could be fraught with such hazard!
In the past month I have experienced varying levels of discomfort in areas usually left out of polite conversation. It poses a challenge when relating the conditions of my health; folks want to know what's going on, but I'm not eager to jump into a technical discussion of the behavior of my milk ducts. Or swelling in my coochipop. Or how it hurts to poop.
Concurrent with the health crisis the weekend, our baby has started to smile real smiles that don't involve the expression of fecal material. Goodness, that little boy is cute. And if he can continue to smile up at me while I sob all over him due to the pain of breastfeeding, well, it just goes to show that I'm his real life mom.