You, my babies, have the wisdom. That ancient wisdom that hasn’t been pushed aside by odd, outdated, sexist expectations of the society we live in. This is something that we, and only us, should get to be in control of. This is the most natural, and most beautiful thing. The gift of a constant flowing white river of magical nourishment, filled with medicinal properties and happy hormones for the three of us. It will be there, in all of its glory, until you decide you have outgrown this part of life. You will remember, and look back on this time with fondness, because I refuse to let this world morph your minds. That is my promise to you, my loves. When you nurse, we reconnect. Everything calms. We sing. We play with one another’s hands. We lock eyes. We bond. We sleep. We embrace. During these moments, I have a very hard time with thinking that this could be seen as anything other than normal and natural; the way it’s meant to be. This is instinct, at its finest. A mother and her children, in the midst of the purest representation of love. That’s all that this is.