Overbearing Mom?

I am cowering in the rocker in the nursery. My breasts are aching and leaking. I am trying to resist the urge to go rip my baby out of my husbands arms and nurse her. He is giving her her first bottle and I am a mess. This post is am exercise in distress tolerance and I am using the skill of distraction. ( that there is some dialectical behavioral therapy for you...my favorite modality)

Who wouldn't want to cuddle this every two hours?

I know that the only reason we are trying to start Baby on a bottle is for me. I need to be able to be gone longer than two hours. This is ironic cause I have no idea where I'd go by myself for three hours. Depressing thought.
Could...gasp...I even be off the hook for a nighttime feeding once in a while? I guess.
But I love nursing. I think it is pretty darn cool that I have fed her every two to three hours for the past three months. Wow! I love holding her and looking down at her looking up at me. I also love that this is exclusively my experience.
But it is time to share.
Jack just walked in. Success!(?)
She just took about an ounce and a half. Apparently, the milk was coming out too fast for her. He has milk spots down the front of his shirt. Ha, join the club. We'll have to change nipple sizes.
Wow. The look on his face was priceless. "it feels good that I can be an important part in her survival other than just moral support." what can I say to that?
I guess this is the first of many steps that I will now take. Letting go. Letting her grow up and away. Sometimes, a lot of the time I wish I could keep her like this. It is amazing how you just don't get it when you don't have kids. Then one day you have a baby and you get it. Remarkable.
Ok. I am off to nurse my little girl.