A Motherhood Milestone

This is a stream-of-consciousness post that I chose not to re-read before publishing. I have a tendency to edit and edit and edit, and for this post, I wanted my true, unfiltered feelings captured. Please excuse any spelling and grammatical errors.

Dear Baby Boy—

The day that once felt so far away has now come and passed. After countless hours snuggled together, belly to belly, our breastfeeding partnership has ended.

It was last Monday night, June 25. I took you up to your room and got you ready for bed as I’ve done so many times before. We snuggled up in your chair, read a book and then I prepared to nurse you to sleep. We’d been slowing things down recently. I’m traveling later this month and knew that I wanted to be finished before the trip. But I didn’t know we’d officially reached the end.

Anyway, Monday night. I went to nurse you and you did the unthinkable: you bit me. I’m flinching now just typing those words. You’ve got teeth coming in left and right so I wasn’t super surprised. We tried again. You lasted about 3 seconds before starting to bite again. That’s when I knew we finished.

If I’d known, I’d have paid closer attention the night before, but really, I remember. How could I ever forget that feeling of closeness, of love?

You arrived ready to breastfeed—hungry and already possessing the skill. It was awesome. Your sister and I struggled for a few months to get into a groove, and things weren’t helped by the fact that I wasn’t taking care of myself, wasn’t drinking enough water, was barely eating and therefore barely making any milk. I was ready with you though, and we figured things out quickly.

We laid on my bed, you nursing while I dozed on weekend mornings. I held you in my arms on the couch, watching Friends reruns at 3am while you ate. We nursed in restaurants, at friends’ houses and in the car. And we lasted for nearly 16 months. In short, we knocked it out of the park.

Having had two unplanned C-sections, there’s a part of me that feels like my body failed me in a way. Breastfeeding was how I made it up to myself and I can’t deny feeling proud that I nursed you and your sister well past your first birthday. My body got that part right. The end of nursing your sister was less emotional for me because I could feel deep in my bones that I would be a mother again. I cried when it was over but generally felt ok. This time is a little different.

With you, our family felt complete, and your father and I agree on that. It’s highly unlikely that I’ll have another baby, and so when you nursed for the last time, it was the very last time. Since that day, not even two weeks ago, you look older to me. You’re more toddler, less baby. Your tentative steps have become confident and assured. Your vocabulary is expanding daily. It’s hard to imagine that you could sit still to nurse now, even though you did not so long ago.

As for me… I’m trying to enjoy the freedom that comes with my body being fully mine again. I drank a beer with a high alcohol percentage. Maybe one night I’ll try sleeping in something other than a nursing bra. I miss you though. You’re still here, still my baby boy, still snuggling with me before bed each night, but I miss you.

Watching my kids grow up is the greatest privilege I could be afforded. But if I could go back and freeze time with you, just for a little while, I’d pick a day when we did nothing but snuggle and nurse and Daddy changed all the diapers.

I love you—

Mama