Comfort and Joy

My baby wails to wake the dead. I go to her, pick her up and hold her close. All of her tensions release as she exhales and relaxes against my body. Then she roots. Aahh, she's hungry. I put her to my breast and she looks at me with big blue eyes and I can see the slight curl in her lip as she tries to smile and nurse at the same time. I rub her silky hair and her eyes roll back with the same milk-drunk euphoria that her brother used to get when he nursed. All is well in the world as she is nourished and warm and happy. For a fleeting moment, she is again one with me, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. She drinks her fill and drifts off to sleep, knowing with every fiber of her being that she is loved.