The Last Time

We talk about the number of "firsts" that parents experience, but rarely do we think about "lasts."  Because as parents, there is so much going on that you don't even realize when something is "the last time."  The last time they wear a cute outfit or the last time they use their baby swing.

It is a weird experience to grieve and be relieved all at the same time and yet, this simultaneous but contradictory experience happened to me recently. 

I chose to breastfeed my children. Having made that choice, though, was always a challenge because I knew that I was solely responsible for the nutrition of our babies. Again, something I wanted and chose to do, but at times, yes, I'll admit it, it was a burden.  I was the one to get up in the middle of the night for feedings, I was the one to calm the baby when he/she was crying, I was the one who suffered from sore nipples, engorgement, leaking and worst of all...mastitis, multiple times. 

But, as challenging as breastfeeding was, it was also one of THE most amazing experiences.

I breastfed my first two children for a year.  I felt that at that point, they could probably get just as much nourishment from food and my supply was weaning by that time. 

Our third baby was not always in the "plan," but some of the best plans are meant to be changed.  I told myself that I would breastfeed for a year, just like I had with other two kids.  A year came and went and my supply had not yet diminished, so I figured, I'll just keep doing it for another month.  And then a month went by and he got sick and so he wanted to nurse a little more and I let him.  And then something else would happen, and so I justified nursing him just a little longer and a little longer.  I began to realize that, although he was fine with nursing, I was the one who needed to continue much more than he needed it.  Yeah sure, it was comforting for him, but by the time he was sixteen and seventeen months, my supply was low enough that I was basically just a pacifier. 

It was so hard to say that this is the last time that I will EVER nurse one of my babies. 

This is something that I've dedicated years of my life to.  This is something that I took for granted hundreds of times. 

I finally told myself that at 18 months, I had to call it quits.  It had to be the last time. 

I picked him up and held him close to me and I watched him.  I watched him like I wanted to burn the image of him nursing into my brain.  I wanted to remember exactly what it felt like as if I hadn't done this thousands of times before.  But, this was the last. 

I cried. Oh my gosh, I cried. It was so hard to come to terms with the idea that I would literally never do this again.  Something that I took for granted for years, something that I often resented and now, more than ever, do I want to continue, knowing it isn't what's best.  

I held him close and watched his beautiful eyes and mouth.  My husband came into the room and initially when he saw how intensely I was crying, I think he thought something was wrong with him, but very quickly realized, it was me.  

It's okay to grieve the last time, just as it was okay to resent some of the many times before that.  I need to remind myself that their are many more times of resentment and lasts that I very much look forward to experiencing in the future.