There were moments when I was breastfeeding my daughter, and I was overwhelmed with joy. All of eternity seemed to make sense. I remember sitting in my glider by the window in our old place on 63rd Street in West New York. There wasn’t much natural light in our apartment, but in the afternoon, rays of sunshine would illuminate this space. Golden particles of light would dance in the air, swirling by my daughter’s tiny nostrils, a steady cadence of air cooing in and out. I swear I would look into her eyes in that moment and see galaxies. Time stood still. “Galaxies of motherly love” - my mother would sign cards this way. Now I knew what she meant. The weight of this tiny figure pressed against my breast, her rounded cheek - so soft! I cry, thinking of these moments. My heart explodes with love as I am connected to all the mothers in all the universe that have ever existed and all the mothers that will ever exist.