Nursing gymnastics

So apparently there's an international nursing symbol. This:

And then there's the international symbol for nursing a toddler:

And ... oh, but it's true.

See, I'm still nursing my daughter. She's 15 months. A toddler. When we go to bed at night, I lie with her on the bed. I'm on my left side, she is on her right, to my left. (Yes, always. She has a preference. I will not even mention what this has done to my bustline.) She nurses like that for a minute. Maybe a minute and a half. Then she heaves her little body up on top of mine, so she is lying on me, I'm flat on my back, she's now looking at where she was lying. I am not allowed to touch her at this point. If I put my hands on her body, even to steady her, she lifts her head, finds my hands, and pushes them away. I don't have to tell you that this is not pleasant for me.

Sometimes in this position, she lifts her right leg, twisting around in a way that would make my yoga teacher very proud. It's detoxifying!

Lately she then moves from the top lying position back over to my left side, but she arranges herself at a 45 degree angle, lying length wise down my left arm, on her belly. Got that? I can't even draw it for you. Her head on my shoulder, her feet at my hand.

Should I let you know here that she does all of this without delatching?

Because she does.

And then? For the next twenty minutes, she switches back and forth between these positions every minute or two. You may think I am exaggerating; I am not. Up. Down. On the arm. Off the arm. Do not touch me mother. You are just the vessel, you must just lie quietly.

Sometimes, when she gets bored, she plays. She bites softly, and giggles. And is puzzled when I get mad. It's fun! Really!

There are times I think this is not worthwhile, let me tell you.

But.

For the times when she's sick, when she won't eat due to teething, when she needs the comfort and the closeness, for when I need the same, it's incomparable. She reaches up, touches my face, looks into my eyes. Smiles. Pats my chin to make sure I'm still there. It brings us together after we've been a part, and is probably the only way I can cope with being separated from such a tiny thing for so long at work.

And despite feeling like a jungle gym, it's so, so worth it.