My baby. My little princess. My little rascal. I’ve been breastfeeding you since you were born—14 months now. And I’m proud of it.
I’ve breastfed you day and night, with dark circles under my eyes all the way up to my neck. I’ve breastfed you for hours on end because there was no other way to calm you down. I’ve breastfed you while crying because I couldn’t take it anymore, because I was exhausted. I’ve breastfed you while questioning myself. I breastfed you while avoiding alcohol and medication.
Then you grew up. And I started feeding you less and less often. Until you were only drinking in the evening before bed and at night to comfort you. But you can’t even imagine how much I need those moments of feeding you. Even more than you do. That moment of nursing gives me a unique moment of closeness with you—a moment that only I can experience.
But tonight, when I offered you the breast, you said, “No, no.” I offered it to you a second time. You said “no” again in that sweet, cute little voice of yours. Then you asked for your pacifier. I gave it to you and put you in your bed. I left your room hoping to hear you cry out, “milk, milk, milk,” but there was no sound. You fell asleep peacefully. Without a single cry or scream.
You just gently pushed me away. Very gently. But it breaks my heart. I’ve known for a long time that this moment would come, but I’m not ready. Really not ready. I want to keep sharing this special little bond with you. That little something that no one else can have. Not even your dad.
I know: it’s selfish, but I still need that feed. The truth is, I’m the one who’s having a hard time accepting your independence and accepting that you’re letting go of me. Even if it’s healthy. Even if it’s normal.
For now, I’m crying. Still, I hope that in time I’ll be proud of the wonderful independence you’ve earned and grateful for all the time I’ve had just with you. And I’ll cherish the beautiful memories of those little moments that were just ours.