finger nails

That's it. I've learned my lesson. I'm never cutting my baby's nails again. I let my guard down for a split second—for one fleeting moment, I let myself feel confident that I was getting the hang of this mothering thing. I finally found a carrier she likes, that doesn't make her scream or hunch or breathe funny. Here she was, this little angel asleep in the sling at my breast, fingers spread in gentle baby trust. And I thought to myself, "Oh perfect, I will clip her nails!" Those gnarly snaggy things have been scratching and catching on everything. I went and found the special little baby nail clippers we had bought just for her!

I sat down, opened the clippers and without much ado went straight for the thumbnail—the scratchiest of all. Just one clip and I couldn't take it back. Along with that little piece of baby fingernail, I had inadvertently snipped off a piece of my little baby's thumb. Well, ok, yes, I exaggerate! But there was blood and my little cooing babe let out a very sad drawn out cry.

I suddenly felt the instinctual need to hold her so tight and tell her Mama was sorry and would never do it again. She had already moved on and was back asleep at the boob moments later.

But not me. I will never do that again. Colin will have to do it. Or we will let them grow long until they curl around her fingers.