When Zach was first born and I was unsure of how to keep him alive, let alone help him grow up to be kind and generous and able to fix a toaster, Jeff and I would fight. Jeff thought that Zach was gaining weight just fine; I thought we should take him in to the office to put him on the postal scale. He thought giving Zach a pacifier was fine; I thought it would doom him to a life of insecure attachment. He thought Zach's latch was just fine; I thought my nipples were going to spontaneously … [Read more...]
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