Nursing: A tribute.

I know a lot of people, don't "get" breastfeeding. I didn't before I started either.

I remember, in the early days of breastfeeding, I thought I would feel victorious when I finally made it to the "finish line". At first, I thought it would be miraculous to make it to 6 months. Around 3 months, I started having so much trouble with supply and felt like if I managed to breastfeed him for one more day, it was the best I could hope for. I lived day by day like that for a few weeks and it got easier and worked better and I made it to 6 months and then 7 months. Around 8 months, it started getting difficult again, one side stopped working, the other side was painful as all hell, but I kept going and low and behold I found myself at 10 months. It seems funny to me now, that I never thought I would make it that far.

Around this time, Leon started to nurse for less time and even started dropping a feeding here and there. I went with the flow and ended up at 11 months, down to only one feeding at night. I held on to that feeding longer than he really showed interest in it because I realized, now that I'd come all this way, the end of breastfeeding didn't really seem like the end of a race or a challenge anymore. It had become my way of life with Leon and a really important part of our relationship. The bond is not something you can explain in words, or at least, I can't do it justice.

When I finally reached the point where I knew nursing was soon to end, it felt so sad to look down at him and think: this could be the last time ever this will happen. Some women go on to nurse for years, most, in north america stop before 4 months... every woman has her own story and experience. I wasn't expecting to feel so sad. I thought I would feel more like I had attained a goal, but having done it for x amount of time ended up being meaningless. What mattered was the feeling of having such a close tie to Leon growing up. What mattered was how much of myself I gave to him. Everything I went through was worth it.

I see him eating food with his own hands now and wanting to break out on his own. He's just going to keep growing and learning and it's exciting and amazing to think about, but also, I already miss him being just a little baby Leon. I know, I'll feel like this for the rest of my days. Each new milestone will be a mix of pride and sadness at letting go.

About a week before his first birthday, we nursed for the last time. He hasn't asked for it since. I would have relented if he had. I still would. I miss it. Sometimes, I wonder if I should have tried to keep it going, but I guess it felt like standing outside of school for his first day and not letting go of his hand as he pulled away to go see what was in store for him. I don't know if every woman has such melancholy. My nursing mentor said it was very common to go through all the stages of grief about it. No one ever told me about that. Not that it would have changed me wanting to nurse, but maybe I would have been more mindful while it was happening.

I miss nursing. I am grieving. At the same time though, I am really proud of myself for having done my best job. I don't think I've ever been as devoted and steadfast about anything else in my life. I can see why some women don't want to do it, it can be really tough. I can also see why some women do it for years. It's an amazing and deeply moving shared experience in giving and receiving care between a mother and child. Nursing is food, it's closeness, it's comfort... It's a profound experience to be able to provide all of those things to your child in such a basic way.

I feel lucky to have had this experience and I will save it in my heart and mind as a special part of Leon's infancy. So here I go Leon, letting go just a little bit, but only the act of nursing is lost. All of the love behind it is still here and overflowing and that will never stop.