I want to start this post with a bit of a forewarning to those reading it. I am about to talk about my breastfeeding journey with my babies. I hesitated about whether or not to share this at first. I am not ashamed about the choices I have made, in fact, I am incredibly proud. I am not embarrassed about the act of breastfeeding or about talking about it - I am very much an advocate, and have managed to make a profession out of it. But despite how passionate I am about it, and how much of my life really does revolve around it, to talk about my personal experience is difficult for me at times - I do not want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.
I hope that you can read this post as my own personal experience, achievement, and struggle. It is not meant to cast judgement, disappointment, or shame on anyone else. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me.
Now on to the post.
I was still nursing Tobes up to last week. He turns 3 in just a few weeks. It snuck up on me quickly - while I never gave it much thought, I didn't think that we would be "still" nursing at this point. It has had it's ups and downs, and while some days I feel touched out or even annoyed at the seemingly constant (every few days) demand for milk at this point, there is no words I can use to explain the feeling I have to have my little boy curled in my arms nursing, even now.
Princess nursed until she was just over 2 (approximately 26 months) - it's approximate because it happened so gradually I don't actually remember her "last nurse". All I know is that days between sessions grew longer and longer, until one day she came to nurse and had lost her latch - she couldn't figure out how to nurse anymore. She shrugged (literally - it was adorable!) and moved along her merry way, and that was the end.
Tobes' end was a little more pronounced. He was down to nursing one or two days a week, but those days could contain anywhere between 1 and 5 sessions, depending on what kind of day we were having, how he was feeling, if he was sick, etc. But last week the end of our nursing relationship was brought suddenly and unexpectedly before us.
Last Monday Tobes had a shower. Usual routine for a long time was to bundle him up in a towel afterwards, and snuggle before putting on jammies. Up until recently the snuggling also included nursing, though as he's gotten older and life has gotten busier, it has been more and more infrequent. That night, however, my sweet little boy sat in my lap, looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and batting his eyelashes he asked to nurse. I allowed him to, and after a few minutes, he looked in disappointment. "There no nuh-nuh!" he exclaimed (our word for nursing). I tried to express some, but only drops came out. I offered the other side to him, and the same thing happened. I explained that there might not be any nuh-nuh anymore, and we both shared a sad moment, and a snuggle. We have tried twice since then (last time was Thursday), and each time there has been no nuh-nuh, no matter if either of us are ready for it to be gone.
With Princess, the process was so gradual that it came to a silent, almost unnoticed end. It was driven by her, and my milk lasted long after she was done. This time around, I've run out of milk for my little boy. I know that he's more-than ready. We go days, sometimes a week without nursing, and have transitioned to snuggles and other things to comfort and bond with him. His immune system is better than any of ours, and while these last 3 times have been sad (for both of us!) the sadness was fleeting for him and he quickly moved on. I have been the one left reeling from it. I am excited for him to grow up and hit new and exciting stages, and so sad to lose this for myself.
For 80 months (6 years, 8 months) my body has been growing children. I have either been pregnant (including the pregnancy between Princess and Tobes), or breastfeeding (for an approximate total of 61 months). Now I am not. It has been nice to wear real bras, less breastfeeding-friendly clothing (like certain shirts and dresses) and not worry about pseudoephedrine in allergy season, but I will never breastfeed again. We aren't planning on having anymore children, and so this is the end of an era for me. It's a topic that I am passionate about both personally, and now professionally, but I am done my own personal journey with it.
I am grateful for the encouragement and support from my husband, my family, and my friends. I am grateful for La Leche League for giving me a place to fit-in. I am grateful for the kind strangers who gave me thumbs up, smiles, or understanding nods as I struggled to nurse my frantic babies on planes, in malls, and restaurants. I am thankful for everyone who respected my decisions even if they didn't agree or understand. I am thankful for those who questioned my decisions to further their own education and understanding. And most of all I am thankful for my beautiful Princess who made my first experience so easy and wonderful, and for my handsome Tobes who humbled me and reminded me that breastfeeding isn't a science, it's an art.
And now this is The End.
