I’m lying in the queen-sized bed of our short-term rental, nursing my 2-year-old daughter Evie before she lays down to nap. I haven’t weaned her yet. These nursing sessions before bed are not something she’s ready to give up and I’m not taking them away until she’s ready. Every child has their own path to growing up, after all.
She’s snuggled up on me, with her head full of blonde curls resting in the crook of my left arm – her favorite position. I look down and gently brush a stray collection of hair off her face. As the lay my arm back down on the bed, Evie makes eye contact with her one deep, blue eye. I see a bit of mischievousness twinkle in that left eye for just a moment. It’s not uncommon to see that spark in her; she’s a Gemini after all and always up to something.
As I look into her eye, her hand moves over and does the thing I’ve been hoping she wouldn’t do. My hope was pointless though since every day for months it’s been the same.
Evie takes her little hand, grabs my unoccupied boob, and gives it a hefty twist.
Yes. A twist. As I am laying here on the bed, trying to lovingly nurse my sweet angel child to sleep, this toddler decides to give her mother a tittie twister.
This isn’t the first time. She’s been twiddling my nipples during our nursing sessions for some time now. It began innocently enough when she was younger and is apparently not uncommon for children to do. I hated it from the beginning, but she was smaller and her ability to coil things with her hand was not as strong. It was more like a baby rubbing a tag or blanket between their fingers to soothe. So, I didn’t stop the behavior. I let her proceed, thinking it was a brief phase, a tick, something she would outgrow.
Now, as a two-year-old, those hands are more powerful. She hangs from a monkey bar for at least 5 seconds on her own. Imagine the force behind those fingers. There is nothing soothing about her movement. It’s like she’s trying to knead a piece of dough or tune in a radio station.
I lay there in bed, looking at that eye as she bends and curls my boob in her hand. I resist the urge to toss her off my body, cross my arms across my chest, and scream “this is my body, dammit!” I can’t do that. I don’t want to scare her or break the haze of incoming sleep. Nap time is precious.
No, I don’t heave her body off me. Instead, I look at that eye and realize that even though this twiddling torture has gone on for months, it won’t go on forever. It can’t. I will somehow slowly find a way to stop the behavior. But, for now, this is a test. And I will pass it.
I swallow the growing irritation in my throat, uncurl my toes, and tell myself this will make me stronger. I brush another blonde curl back that somehow fell into her face again and breathe deeply.
As I shift in place, Evie thinks I am moving her to her bed and she’s not ready for that. She unlocks her mouth and says softly but with authority, “side”. This means that my boss wants to move to my other boob for nursing. I oblige and lift her strong toddler body up and rest her head on my right arm. She cuddles in, her right hand moving to my other boob to twist and turn.
Right then, I make a choice. I move my arm across that boob and say, “No, no Evie girl. That boobie’s done.”
She looks at me with her right eye and I can tell she’s thinking about my words. She doesn’t look determined though. She’s getting tired and the stubbornness inside of her is sleepy as well. Yet, Evie still pushes my arm away and tries to twiddle and twist again.
I stay firm.
“No, no. That one is all done,” as I move my arm back across my chest.
She looks at me. She pauses. And somewhere in her sweet mind, my little boss sees that this is agreeable. That boobie IS done. Evie rests her hand softly on the other boob she is nursing on, and slowly closes her eye.
Inside, I’m throwing confetti and cheers-ing myself with a glass of prosecco. I did it! My left boob, if it could express feelings like it’s been expressing milk the past 2 years, would be thanking me. The tittie torture has stopped. At least for this moment.
I’ve won a battle here today on this bed. Now let’s see when I will win the war.