I’m thankful for tiny miracles. They surround us everyday, going practically unnoticed.
For instance, the way the sun continues to rise each morning and spread its life-giving warmth over every person and living thing on the earth.
Now that I’m back to work, I wake up every morning to prepare my baby’s bottles for the day.
I get this sense of pride and amazement when I think that I made this milk. And honestly, I can’t even take credit for that because it’s something my body is doing all on it’s own. The process is as involuntary as a heartbeat, and just as essential.
When I gave birth to her, my body started doing what it needed to do behind the scenes to get the milk to flow.
It knows how much to make and when she’ll need it. My only job (as far as the milk is concerned) is to give it to her.
I’ve watched her blossom from a modest 6lb, 7oz newborn to a robust 15 pound baby just 4 months later.
I’ve been asked, “What are you feeding that girl?”
My answer: Breastmilk.
It’s something I’m amazed by and very thankful for.
Begin this series here.