You and Tucker were happily with a beautiful baby girl named Riley. She was only a week old, but you both were already in love with her. Sure, she might've been a handful. But she was so worth every bit of it.

You'd always wanted to breastfeed your babies. Always. You loved Riley, almost as much as her daddy. You wanted so badly to breastfeed her. But every time you tried, she would never latch onto it. Sh only ate from the bottle. No matter how hard you tried, she just wouldn't have it. More often than not, you ended up crying. Both because of hormones and labor pain. She just would not do it.

In the nursery at 2 in the morning, the story wasn't any different than the last dozens of times. You tried to get Riley to latch on and feed by the nip, but she wouldn't. You ended up bottlefeeding her, burping her, then rocking her back to sleep. You put her back in the crib and walked back out, collapsing against the shut door in tears.

Tucker was up, coming back upstairs from getting a glass of water. He froze in the top step when he saw you, then he rushed over to you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders while he comforted you. He spoke to you, his southern drawl you were so addicted to prominent in his gentle and calm voice.

Mind tellin' me what's wrong, darlin'?