The most beautiful thing I've ever seen

This morning I experienced the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I had just gotten up to feed and change Grace, about 7:30 or so. After we were done, we crawled back into bed together with Michael and Klaus to have some whole family cuddle time. I lay down and lay her on my belly. Sometime thereafter, I saw her starting to root, crawling her way up my chest like she had done during our first skin-to-skin time right after she was born. I quickly pulled down my tank top a little so she could find some skin. Soon enough she was pulling down my shirt, and I realized: she was looking for my breast.

I couldn't believe it.

I pulled down my shirt the rest of the way on both sides, exposing both of my scar-covered breast mounds, watching to see what Grace would do. As she made her way down the breast toward where the nipple would be, I wondered, "Is there really still some instinct in her, or some scent or remaining tissue in me, that draws her to this place, even though it is merely a manmade breast?" And then to my amazement, she started licking my mastectomy scar - right where my nipple used to be.

What a gift my Grace was giving me. At first, my heart ached a little, because she will never find food from that scar. My little girl is such a good sucker and she would surely love breast-feeding. I have many times wondered what it would be like to breastfeed her, even as I find bottle feeding her very satisfying as well. But here I was getting something at least close to the breast-feeding experience, and it was beautiful. It occurred to me then that I had not finished the bottle, filled with donated breast milk from a friend, that we had started. I reached for it, and squeezed it in under her little seeking mouth, and Grace took it immediately. And then I fed my daughter breast milk as her head rested on my breast. I looked on in continued amazement.

When she had finished, I took off her sleeper, and my shirt, and lay her back down on my chest. She happily rested her head between my two breast mounds, her sweet, soft head between my scars. My heart filled with gratitude even as my eyes spilled over. I tried to sing softly to her the song that Michael and I danced to at our wedding, the first song I ever sang and played for Michael on my ukulele, The Way I Am (Ingrid Michaelson), but I couldn't get past the first chorus before my voice left me completely: "...Cuz I love the way you say good morning. And you take me the way I am."

And so I just enjoyed the moment, enjoyed watching her sleep, enjoyed stroking her head, praying for her, thanking God for this gift.

This, my friends, this is what GRACE looks like.