We fell in love with each other over breastfeeding, my daughter, Makela, and I. It happened during all the long hours we spent staring deep into each other’s eyes during feeding time; me, imagining how her life would unfold, she, memorizing the details of my face. If I close my eyes I can still see her smiling while attached to my breast, warm milk rolling down the side of her face, tickling her cheeks. For her my breasts meant comfort. Nursing calmed her fears, healed the hurt and soothed her to sleep.--read more >>