Every day I think something like: "This is the last time I'll ever nurse a brand-newborn, still all squishy and wobbly, and completely vulnerable and trusting." During pregnancy, even with all my kvetching and whining, I kept thinking: "the last time I'll feel these kicks and the sweetness of having having nothing between me and my baby." I look at her and think how already she's changed in nine days, and how I will never again go through the intensity of labor and delivery, the amazing freight train of birth. Am I nuts? 
