An end to a sweet era

Warning: This post is about breastfeeding. Proceed with caution. Or empathy. Or whatever emotion breastfeeding might stir in you.

I really enjoy breastfeeding. I love the bond that it creates between you and baby. I love the simplicity of being able to completely nourish your newborn from your own body. I think it is a wonderful bonding time spent together and I am so thankful I was able to do it with all 3 kids.

Nursing Josie wasn't the easiest journey. In the beginning, she lost a lot of her birthweight. I stressed incessantly about not having enough milk for her. I never felt that "breaking the dam" feeling when the milk first came in and I rarely felt "full" so I was always fretting that I wasn't making enough and that breastfeeding wasn't going to work out this time. My doctor was wonderful about not getting worked up about things and he swore that 90% of the time, if you are really committed to making it work, which I was, it was going to work out. He just suggested I drink the equivalent of Lake Superior each day to be sure I would be set to produce enough. Which I gallantly tried to do, and slowly, she started to gain her weight back. Luckily when you start out one pee short of 11 lbs at birth, you have a little to spare so it wasn't as worrisome to the doctor as it was to me. But once we got things flowing, it still wasn't easy. Her latch was very shallow and good golly Miss Molly did it hurt for a while. I remember tears flowing down my cheeks as I curled my toes and settled in for the 25 minutes or so that it would take. But I really wanted to do it, so I hung in there. I had more than my fair share of clogged ducts and mastitis. I laid on the floor with blankets piled on me and asked Jack when he came home from school if he could please play with Josie because I was sick, and then the fever would break and I couldn't stop sweating. I suffered through a couple of brutal headaches wishing that I could down a few magic pills they call Excedrin and make it go away, but I sucked down a few Tylenol instead in a futile attempt to make it better. Oh yes, and there was many let's try out these teeth phases.

So, it wasn't always a picnic.

But still.

Those little hands reaching for your face and playing with your nose. Those toes and legs climbing all over you while lying there. Those dark tiny newborn eyes peering into yours trying to place just who you were and where they were. All of the undressings and the ticklings when she was a wee one trying to stay awake while nursing. And later, the smiles that came through without letting go of the goods. The anticipation they feel when they get the hang of things and know it's dinnertime. Dozing off at bedtime with just the nightlight on convinced life doesn't get any better than this.

Oh this is what makes it hard to give up.

But, it's time. My milk supply has been fading, as it does, for a while. Slowly, we dropped feedings till we were just down to the night time one. And frankly, she didn't really even care anymore. I was following up with a bottle anyway, so it had become something to get through to get to the bottle. A source of frustration in wanting more than was available.

So, last night, we got into position, I stroked her hair as I always do, and we set in for the last time as I wondered if I could really say this was the last time. How would I know? How do you just pick the day to say this is it? I knew it was time but it's so hard to let go. I watched the clock with a lump in my throat. Because it's not just Josie's last time, but it's my last time too. There is no feeling like nursing your baby and it's so hard to say goodbye to. Then, I asked her, do you want your bottle? And she gently pulled off, gave me a crooked half smile, and I knew that this was it.