"It is only in the act of nursing that a woman realizes her motherhood in visible and tangible fashion; it is a joy of every moment." ~Honore de Balzac*
Sometimes I miss this.
Lorelai, 9 months. I think this is the only picture I have of me breastfeeding any of my kids which is kind of crazy when you consider that between 3 kids, I spent almost 3.5 years nursing them. I'm totally modest, which is why, but in hindsight, I wish I had captured it.
It's been a year since Lorelai weaned at 15 months. It was mostly mutual, but bittersweet. She was down to one morning feeding by that point, and I was holding on to it because she's my baby. My last baby. Sniff.
Then I got an extremely nasty stomach bug and got really dehydrated, and what was left of my supply tanked, so Lorelai wasn't interested and didn't seem to mind. And that was that. I didn't try again that day or the next—it seemed like a convenient end. The fact that it was a very gradual weaning process made the transition easier.
On the one hand, I was definitely glad to have my body back to myself, but at the same time, I missed that closeness—the special bond that no one else in the world can ever have with her.
I'm just so thankful that I was able to breastfeed at all, let alone for as long as I did. I look back with nothing but fond memories, which is why I'm feeling a little nostalgic that it's been a whole year.
My baby. Where did she go?
*I don't agree with "only" because obviously there are moms who can't or don't breastfeed, which is perfectly fine. But the rest of that quote resonates with me.