12/01/2026
I’m feeding one baby while my older child sits nearby, watching.
And that part is harder than I ever expected.
The baby is easy in this moment. He knows what he needs. He’s calm. He’s settled. My body is still his comfort and that part feels natural.
But my older child is looking at me.
Not saying anything. Just watching.
Watching me give something that used to be just ours. Watching me be needed in a way that once belonged to him. And even though he understands in his own way, I can feel how big this moment is for him.
Some days I feel torn in half.
I love them both so deeply, but I can’t give both of them everything at the same time. And that guilt sneaks in even when I know I’m doing my best.
Breastfeeding with an older child around isn’t just about feeding a baby. It’s about managing emotions I didn’t know I’d have. It’s about explaining with hugs instead of words. It’s about reminding my older child that he still matters just as much.
Motherhood keeps asking me to hold two truths at once.
That my arms are full.
And that my heart somehow keeps making more room. 🤱
