So, there I am, sitting in semi-darkness, with my baby attached to my left breast. Again! I had tried using this time to do breathing exercises. I had tried using this time to rest. I had tried using this time to make up fantasy stories for him. I had tried using this time to sing. The problems with the above were: (a) it’s hard to meditate or rest when you are obsessed with knowing the exact time your baby is feeding from each breast; (b) without the rest, I could only think up one story before I hit the bottom of the barrel; and (c) I can’t sing.
I’ve always been good at math though and that part of my brain was still remarkably in tact. From three weeks old, my baby had the entire times table recited to him four times a day.
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