Are you still doing that?
Last year in honor of World Breastfeeding Week I wrote about breastfeeding my then one year old son. This year I decided to write about breastfeeding my now two year old son.
Some may think it strange to be nursing a walking, talking, three feet tall toddler who, "asks for it," but it didn't start out that way. We started our breastfeeding journey just like everyone else, scared shitless, wondering if it was actually going to work, and curling my toes in agony every time he latched on. I remember wondering how it was even humanly possible for a baby so tiny to suck so hard, it is crazy, right?!
We nursed through uncertainties about supply, rivers of tears, food allergies, painful reflux, engorgement, growth spurts, and exhausted glossy eyes. Our confidence grew. We nursed through hurt feelings and scraped knees, painful teething and unsettled nights. It was coming easily now. We nursed in the hot car, the dressing room, the bathroom stall, under a blanket, and in the far back bedroom of loved ones houses. We decided that was bullshit. So we nursed while walking around Target, at the Aquarium, at the beach, in restaurants, and on the comfortable couches of loved ones homes. We had arrived.
I understand that nursing a two year old isn't for everyone, in fact I wasn't sure it was for me until I woke up one day and realized that I was already doing it. I remember thinking that it might be weird, or creepy even to nurse a toddler. I couldn't even imagine my child walking up to me and asking to nurse! I just wanted to make it through the first year. Well, that first year few by and before I knew it I was nursing a two year old who most definitely asks for it. Though let's be real here, a baby who is one hour old asks for it! Days pass, the seasons blend, and nursing has just become part of our lives. I honestly can't imagine not doing it, though some days I do dream about being done.
You see, when we are nursing, I am not thinking about the fact that Caches has 16 teeth and is fully capable of eating a variety of solid foods. I am not thinking about the length of his limbs that now rest awkwardly across my body and sometimes touch the floor or wave above my head. I am not thinking about his ability to form sentences, request food by name, or ask to nurse. I don't question his need for this loving connection, to be close to his first and greatest form of comfort. I know that this is a normal, beautiful thing for a two year old to still be doing. I also know that soon enough we won't be doing it anymore.
Just as he no longer needs me to hold his hand as he walks, he will outgrow his need for nursing. It might require a gentle nudge from mama, or he could just one day decide to stop. This is something I have no way of knowing, and just as I said last year, I am not going to let some arbitrary date on the calendar determine when our nursing relationship will come to a close. There will come a sign, a movement toward stopping, so until that sign revels itself to me, we will persevere.
We will continue to curl up at the end of the day when the world is still and quiet. I will continue to revel at the deep connection I feel to my child while nursing. I will look deeply into his sleepy eyes as his lashes slowly fall to rest upon his warm, pink cheeks. I will continue to be amazed at the length of his legs as they move from kicking my shoulder to lying limp and stretched out; they were once so tiny and weak. I will fight through the days that I am feeling touched out, and I will enjoy the days when it all comes easily.
I don't know if I will be nursing a two and a half year old, a three year old, or even a four year old. I can not predict the future. All I know is that whenever our journey comes to an end, I will be proud of myself, and of my body for nourishing my child. And I will be forever thankful to my son for teaching me patience, persistence, resilience, confidence, and how to do just about anything one handed while cradling a nursing child.
Some may think it strange to be nursing a walking, talking, three feet tall toddler who, "asks for it," but it didn't start out that way. We started our breastfeeding journey just like everyone else, scared shitless, wondering if it was actually going to work, and curling my toes in agony every time he latched on. I remember wondering how it was even humanly possible for a baby so tiny to suck so hard, it is crazy, right?!
We nursed through uncertainties about supply, rivers of tears, food allergies, painful reflux, engorgement, growth spurts, and exhausted glossy eyes. Our confidence grew. We nursed through hurt feelings and scraped knees, painful teething and unsettled nights. It was coming easily now. We nursed in the hot car, the dressing room, the bathroom stall, under a blanket, and in the far back bedroom of loved ones houses. We decided that was bullshit. So we nursed while walking around Target, at the Aquarium, at the beach, in restaurants, and on the comfortable couches of loved ones homes. We had arrived.
I understand that nursing a two year old isn't for everyone, in fact I wasn't sure it was for me until I woke up one day and realized that I was already doing it. I remember thinking that it might be weird, or creepy even to nurse a toddler. I couldn't even imagine my child walking up to me and asking to nurse! I just wanted to make it through the first year. Well, that first year few by and before I knew it I was nursing a two year old who most definitely asks for it. Though let's be real here, a baby who is one hour old asks for it! Days pass, the seasons blend, and nursing has just become part of our lives. I honestly can't imagine not doing it, though some days I do dream about being done.
You see, when we are nursing, I am not thinking about the fact that Caches has 16 teeth and is fully capable of eating a variety of solid foods. I am not thinking about the length of his limbs that now rest awkwardly across my body and sometimes touch the floor or wave above my head. I am not thinking about his ability to form sentences, request food by name, or ask to nurse. I don't question his need for this loving connection, to be close to his first and greatest form of comfort. I know that this is a normal, beautiful thing for a two year old to still be doing. I also know that soon enough we won't be doing it anymore.
Just as he no longer needs me to hold his hand as he walks, he will outgrow his need for nursing. It might require a gentle nudge from mama, or he could just one day decide to stop. This is something I have no way of knowing, and just as I said last year, I am not going to let some arbitrary date on the calendar determine when our nursing relationship will come to a close. There will come a sign, a movement toward stopping, so until that sign revels itself to me, we will persevere.
We will continue to curl up at the end of the day when the world is still and quiet. I will continue to revel at the deep connection I feel to my child while nursing. I will look deeply into his sleepy eyes as his lashes slowly fall to rest upon his warm, pink cheeks. I will continue to be amazed at the length of his legs as they move from kicking my shoulder to lying limp and stretched out; they were once so tiny and weak. I will fight through the days that I am feeling touched out, and I will enjoy the days when it all comes easily.
I don't know if I will be nursing a two and a half year old, a three year old, or even a four year old. I can not predict the future. All I know is that whenever our journey comes to an end, I will be proud of myself, and of my body for nourishing my child. And I will be forever thankful to my son for teaching me patience, persistence, resilience, confidence, and how to do just about anything one handed while cradling a nursing child.
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