I have been very lucky: I have had the choice to breastfeed all of my children. Not everyone has the choice; not everyone wants the choice. But, though I have had my own share of hurdles in the adventure that is motherhood, nursing is something that has been relatively easy and effortless for me. Not painless, mind you, but free from the trials that some women face.
Some days, I need to remember why I choose to breastfeed at all. Those are the days when I feel like if another tiny human touches me again, I might scream. They are the days when my breasts are sore and cry out for a week without a bra on 24/7 or any sucking action whatsoever, whether by baby or pump. Some days, I would do anything in my power just to wear a normal Le Mystere instead of the saggy, uncomfortable nursing bra. Nursing bras never quite fit me correctly.
But I know that in another six months, when I am beginning to wean my very last baby, I won’t remember the gruesome details so much. The experience will already be part of my memories, and my memory itself is unreliable these days. I have approximately two brain cells left now, I am convinced, and they are needed in their entirety to walk straight and drive the car. No room left for remembering things. So before the Mommy Amnesia sets in, here are ten things I will miss about nursing my babies:
I will miss the quiet moments of nursing, the forced time to sit and be still. As a parent, stillness is not only rare; it is luxurious. I savor the time I can claim just to sit or lie down with the baby and be together, focused on her. After four babies, I have mastered the art of walking while nursing, but I try not to practice that skill. The chance to hit the “pause” button — even now, when it is definitely complicated to do so in the midst of three other children and the rush of daily life — is too precious.
I’m going to miss lying beside the baby and feeling her little feet and tiny toes flex rhythmically against my stomach or leg while she nurses. I love those dainty toes connecting with me. Too soon, her body will be long and lanky, like her brothers. She won’t be the chunky ball of wonderful rolls and curves that she is now. I bury my face in her sweet cheeks and scrumptious neck.
I’m going to miss bright eyes looking up at me, and the way she stops and stares at me quizzically all of a sudden, like she just noticed I was there too. It takes her so by surprise that she stops nursing for a moment and just looks at me, locking my eyes with hers. When she was tiny, she stared for a second, then continued to nurse, though slowly, like she was taking me all in or making sure that I was something she was okay with having right above her head. Now that she is older, she will stop, pause, and sometimes break into a big, milky, gummy smile. It is tough to hold a latch when smiling. Those gummy smiles are the sweetest.
I will miss the chance to stroke soft little cheeks and tufted wisps of baby hair, the smell of soap and milk together.
I will miss the way the baby sometimes balls her fists up and holds them so they are together, as if this act of nursing takes all her concentration and might.
I will miss the way she bobs her head from side to side when she is preparing to latch, stretching her lips and wildly searching for her target like a baby animal. It’s a little scary seeing that coming for your breasts, but it’s also cute.
I will miss dozing off with a nursing baby, waking up to a baby asleep with her chin on my breast. Will that little face really tell me I’m not her best friend anymore in only a small matter of years, like her brothers did? How will I ever send that face off to Kindergarten to be cared for someone else for the majority of her waking hours?
I will miss the teeny-tiny hands that stroke me and fidget while she nurses. She loves me, and she doesn’t even know what love is yet.
I will miss the feeling of being her homebase. There is not much in a baby’s world that cannot be solved or soothed by nursing. In so much of parenting, I feel a little helpless. In contrast, nursing is like holding a superpower.
Most of all, I will miss the baby I am nursing. In no time at all, she’ll be running after her brothers and leaving me behind. I’ll get to wear my proper bra and drink a beer guilt-free, and my breasts will dry up and once again look like tube socks half-filled with uncooked rice. But I will never have my baby back again. And that will be all right, but that does not mean I won’t miss her.
I read this as I nursed my own little one in bed. I can tell she is starting to wean, wanting food more and more and nursing less and less. As much as it will be nice in some ways to be done and finally have ownership of my body, it is still so bittersweet. She is my last baby too and the end our nursing relationship is something I will mourn deeply.
I’ll help you mourn it less with a celebratory margarita. 😉 Seriously, I know what you mean.
This is so completely perfect. I, too, was enamored with the experience of breastfeeding my three children, and I mourned the ending of that period in their lives just as profoundly as you describe. In fact, on the last day that I breastfed my last child, I even went so far as to hold a digital camera over us and videotape a few moments of her nursing. I haven’t watched it in many years now, but I am comforted just knowing that it’s there. A precious moment of time– a gift, on so many levels– captured forever.
That’s so sweet, and such a good idea! Might steal.
I nursed all three of babies and loved it. My youngest will be two next month and it is definitely bittersweet when it ends. I loved that special time and the caresses from my baby. I would have loved to nurse til she was two, but she was ready and self-weaned herself. Love idea of a video or picture, wish I would have.
I always miss the sleep nursing, where you watch them move their chins like they are nursing but nothing is in their mouths. So sweet.
OMG, I know!
So beautifully said. I was so blessed to be able to nurse my kids and so glad I made that personal choice. However, now I’m worried….I weaned my last ‘baby’ when she was 2 1/2 – so about 8 months ago, and I hadn’t held a baby since. So last week a dear friend had a baby and when I was holding that amazing, adorable, OMG newborn I screamed “I JUST WANT TO STRIP MY SHIRT OFF AND NURSE THIS BABY NOW!” And then my friend awkwardly took her baby back. The nerve. 😉
bwahahahahaha! I know that feeling!
This is perfect. After recurrent miscarriages, high blood pressure issues (with my firstborn), and two unplanned c-sections, I also feel lucky in the nursing department when it comes to my two children as it came surprisingly easy for me and my kids. My son nursed until just after he turned two years old. And my daughter (who turns three years old next month) stopped nursing all together about 2-3 months ago, totally on her own. I miss it. I miss it more than I thought I would. While nursing a toddler wasn’t always the most enjoyable experience, I miss the quiet closeness we had during those times, even if it was for a minute or two. Newborn nursing is one of my favorite things about motherhood. Catching those little eyes staring at you while they are busy drinking, or making them smile and they spill their milk…those have been some of the most precious moments of motherhood for me.
Me too, me too. Gosh, you have been through a lot. Big hugs, mama.
Hi there. I found you through Lindsey at A Design So Vast and have been hiding in my office and reading every post of yours in one gulp. I had to comment on this one, though, as I’m sitting in my office right now pumping. I hate pumping, by the way, but I cherish the excuse I have to shut my door and turn my brain off 3x a day. I did not love nursing my firstborn, and was always looking forward to when I “got my body back”. I am currently nursing my 5 month old and oh, how different it is for me this time. Thank you for writing something so beautiful and un-icky about nursing, something that I can relate to. Both my kids did this thing with their hands- like hands open, fingers splayed apart, right next to their mouths, little jazz hands of concentration. I find it bittersweet- I will be glad to be able to live my life in longer than 3 hour increments again, but wistful that I will have to let her go a tiny bit.
Love the “jazz hands” visual! Yes, it’s bittersweet, the whole thing. (P.S. — I love Lindsey!)