I read all the text books I could get my hands on, and none of it prepared me for the experience of breastfeeding. Minutes after my son was born he was placed on my chest and wiggled himself to my breast to consume his first ever meal out-utero.
The tiniest mouth on earth opening just wide enough for a nipple, a little pink tongue poking out, the quietest voice making sweet murmers, little hands warm on my skin, a fluttering heartbeat against mine.
I was amazed that his instincts brought him to my breast in such a fashion, and was shocked to feel the sensation of his suckling: it was not at all what I thought it would be. Its not like I cried out in alarm or anything, I figured I'd already done the hard part by delivering him, and that breastfeeding would not even rate on a scale of difficulty.