“She would wake up hungry in the night where she slept in her basket by my bed.  I would turn on the light, change her diaper, and then turn the light off.  The rest I did in the dark, by feeling.  I took her into bed with me and propped myself up with pillows against the headboard to let her nurse.  As she nursed and the milk came, she began a little low contented sort of singing.  I would feel milk and love flowing from me to her as once it had flowed to me. It emptied me.  As the baby fed, I seemed slowly to grow empty of myself as if in the presence of that long flow of love even grief could not stand.  And the next thing I knew, I would be waking up to daylight in the room and Little Margaret would be still sleeping in my arms.”

Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry, p. 56-57

(Emphasis mine. Thanks to Nik for finding this passage for us.)

(For a discussion of this incredible book, see last week’s Readers’ Review show from the Diane Rehm show.  If you haven’t read it yet, you should.)