I'm on the couch, my son sleeping on my bare chest, my tank top splotchy with breast milk that’s leaked and dried. The living room is quiet, filtered with soft afternoon light. A breastfeeding pillow still rests across my lap from his last feed. My breakfast plate sits empty on the side table beside a half-finished cup of coffee and an empty water bottle — I never imagined being this thirsty while breastfeeding...

I had a teacher many years ago who said, we don't create, birth, feed or care for our babies with our heads...we mother with our bodies...

Have you ever heard someone say 'You just have to learn how to quiet the mind.' and immediately thought 'That's impossible!'? I have....