Dear Holden,
Seven years ago this month, I got pregnant with your big(gest) sister.
And since that time, I have been either pregnant or nursing (or both!)
continuously. That’s a total of nearly 30 months pregnant, plus a total of over
65 months nursing. Yes, that’s right, SIXTY-FIVE MONTHS.
I haven’t regretted my choices, or the unexpected path that our life
has chosen for us – to have all three of you within four years has been a blessing.
An exhausting blessing, but a blessing nonetheless. To be able to fairly
effortlessly breastfeed all of you has marked some of my most joyful, peaceful
moments in the past six years of being a mother. There have been hard times in
my breastfeeding journeys, for sure – I vividly remember how slowly my milk
came in after Mercedes was born, and having to pump with a hospital grade pump
after each feed for a few weeks. I remember the night after Alexis was born,
when she basically nursed ALL NIGHT LONG to bring my milk in. She was tiny, but
feisty, and very vocal about her desires! (Not much has changed about that in
the past four years.) I remember the only real nursing strike I ever experienced,
and that was yours, during a pretty serious set of illnesses (strep throat,
double ear infection, pneumonia). That was a week-long period of agony and
doubt for me, which ultimately culminated in a brief hospitalization for you
and the beginning of your asthma diagnosis.
Thankfully though, I weathered all the hard times and the growth spurts
and the TEETH, together with my babies. I’ll never forget coming home after a
week-long business trip just a couple of months ago, and being SO worried that
you would not want to nurse anymore, even though I knew you were over two and
of course, would be fine. But the first words out of your mouth when you saw me
were “Hi! Hi Mommy! I nurse now peas!” It was heart-warming and made me feel so
incredibly glad that you treasured our breastfeeding relationship just as much
as I did.
But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. It appears,
after 29 months of nursing you, my final baby, we are on the resolute path
towards weaning. It isn’t exactly your choice, and it isn’t exactly my choice,
but we seem to be making the march together, which is exactly what I always wanted
to experience. I stopped nursing both of your sisters, fairly abruptly, as I
was pregnant each time with a subsequent child. It didn’t bother them, but it
did bother me a little – pregnancy hormones and guilt are a horrible mix! I
always longed for that slow, gradual weaning process and now, years later, here
we are!
Before you started daycare at 15 months old, we were down to about 4-5
nursing sessions a day. Once you started daycare, that became 2-3 sessions a
day – always in the morning and before bed, and then sometimes an extra session
thrown in overnight, or on the weekends. More recently, we’ve moved down to one
session – the eternally-helpful bedtime session. It has always been a great way
for the two of us to reconnect after a day apart; some quiet cuddle time, just
mama and her little boy. Of course, it always had the added benefit of making
you sleepy, which I have to admit was a sanity-saver!
However, your bedtime routine is taking longer and longer (particularly
since I returned home from that business trip) – you seem to be about ready to
drop your much-beloved nap, you are far less tired than your sisters in the
evening, you want to do everything they do (including PJs and stories in Lexi’s
room), you want to help tuck your sisters in, you want an extra story in your
room after the girls are already in bed, you want me to sit on your floor for a
few minutes in the dark, etc, etc. And you seem less and less interested in
maintaining that bedtime nursing session, and truthfully, so am I. We still
have quiet cuddle time in your room, just you and me. We read a quick story,
with you snuggling up in my arms in your chair. We rock for a few minutes. You
give me a sweet kiss and a big hug and we exchange ‘I Love Yous’ and ‘Goodnights’.
Truthfully, it’s pretty perfect.
So I am sad, but also happy. It’s a bittersweet time for me – to know
that such an ingrained part of my day, my life for the past six years, is
coming to an end is hard for me. It’s yet another sign in the expanding pile of
them that my babies are growing up. But, yay, it means that my babies are
growing up! My babies are turning into big kids – with voices, and distinct
personalities, and their own thoughts and wishes and interests and likes and
dislikes. My babies are becoming independent, and confident, and growing into
themselves. How can I be sad about that? And of course, I have to admit, that I
am a little relieved to finally be getting my body back after all of these
years. I gave myself over fully – to growing three wonderful humans, and to
sustaining them for months on end. And I will never regret it. But I am happy
to be just me again. To not be tied down to a nursing infant, to not have to
worry about the fact that my babies don’t take bottles or soothers, to not have
to worry about being gone overnight (or multiple nights!). There will never be
a time that I don’t feel grateful for all of the experiences I’ve had being
pregnant and breastfeeding. But now, the time has come for new experiences, and
I am excited about what the future holds.
Love always,
Mama
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