Image via Pix-Elated Photography

It’s almost time. I can feel it. He’s dropped feeding after feeding. He is so close to calling it quits. He would rather babble or try to tickle me when I lay him on my lap after his nap to nurse him. While I don’t mind his adorable antics I can’t believe we are almost done. From the minute he latched in the hospital until now, at 16 month old, it’s been primal and sacred.

I was abandoned at birth, have no idea who or where my biological mother is. As a nursing mother I’m more aware of what we lost, including the connection that only comes through nursing. My oldest son, Jericho, is adopted, we met him at 2 1/2. We never nursed and he reminds me all the time how he wished we had that time together as he watches his baby brother on my lap. I wish we had it too.

When I became pregnant, and baby brother came along, I met my first biological relative. He had my curly hair, my big brown eyes, and my cheeky smile. As someone without a baby picture it was healing to look into the eyes of my baby and promise sustenance. Something I had been denied, something my oldest son had been denied, but something I could offer my baby.

It was rocky in the beginning as we learned to find our groove. He had trouble latching and I grew frustrated trying to feed him. Once we found out what on earth we were doing we connected mind, body, and soul. Since that moment I’ve savored every morning cuddle as he lies in my bed by my side, gulping down mouthfuls of milk. The middle of the night nursing sessions became precious, reminding my body and mind we need each other.

While it felt inconvenient at times to nurse in the car, a corner at a restaurant, or on a park bench at Disney World I knew it was something special, that made him feel calm, connected, and full. While other friends have rejoiced when their turn is up, trading nursing bras for push up bras, I’m over here blinking back tears, in awe that I no longer have a baby but a toddler.

No more scheduling meetings around his nursing schedule or racing back from girls night to nurse before he goes down for bed. Those habits will be a thing of the past in just a matter of days. With no intention of another biological baby I’m savoring every minute, all of them stacked up over the past 480 days where his needs trumped my desire for juice diets or 5 cups of coffee before noon.

I doubt he’ll remember our time together, how we both found ourselves a little more relaxed after nursing. I’ll remember though. I’ll remember how he stared, sometimes waved, and smiled. I’ll always remember.

It’s been precious. It’s been sacred. It’s been primal. It has been a gift. A gift I was so happy to receive.

All images by Pix-Elated Photography

Image Via Pix-Elated Photography