My nipples are still pink, and I still have Raynaud’s and some burning. But they are no longer Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer bright, which gives me hope that perhaps we are turning a corner and heading toward recovery. I will be so very grateful when this thrush is gone.
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve had any sweets and though I still fantasize about eating them, I’m starting to get used to this new diet. I can’t wait for the day when I can bake a batch of cookies with River, but in the meantime, I’ve found that Granny Smith apples with cashew butter and Greek yogurt with mixed berries serve as my treats. I must admit though, that when I had a little bit of free time, what did I do but walk to the library, grab a stack of cookbooks, and salivate over the pictures. There was a picture of a French silk pie in the America’s Test Kitchen 2010 that I would not have been able to resist if the actual pie had been in front of me.
With a little release in the intensity, I feel like I’m able to poke my head above water a little. I’m starting to take Willow to some evening readings and lectures where the presence of a baby can be tolerated. I take her to my Spanish bookgroup and recently attended a MothUp, or story slam, with her. The ability to listen to interesting adults tell stories while I breastfed was such a treat. Soon I’ll be attending a girls night out.
I still don’t go anywhere besides my statistics class, or for a short walk, without a child. True independence will come when I can leave them both for more than two hours at a time, but I know that will come one of these days. In the meantime, I treasure looking at her bright eyes that reflect my image, at feeling the curves and muscles of her tiny body, at listening to coos of delight and in having a couple of moments, here and there, where I have the full use of both hands.