Our last feed

I can't let another moment go by without writing about something that took place this week.  It seems I've breastfed my last child for the last time.  Weaning Henry has been a drawn-out affair.  The boy likes his booby.  A lot.  He got to the point of pointing at me and saying "dat milk!" (as opposed to the milk he gets out of a cup).  I still enjoyed nursing Henry, for the most part, but I was also done being pawed at and having my shirt lifted up over my still clinging-on baby belly, sometimes in public.  And yes, there was still milk.  Our bodies produce milk as long as milk is still being taken out by a searching little mouth.

My last few feeds with him weren't great - it hurt.  The guy has powerful suction and a lot of teeth.  But the last feed (or what I assume was the last one as it was about 72 hours ago), was lovely.  Exactly what I wanted it to be.  As he snuggled up and fed, I rubbed his head, caressing his soft curls, just like I've done hundreds, nay, thousands, of times before.

I've spent countless hours feeding my babies.  I don't feel sad that this era has come to an end in our lives.  I still nourish them on a daily basis in so many different ways.  I'm happy to be leaving this behind now.  And I'm so glad to have taken this journey with them.  It was hard.  I really struggled with feeding Emily and Hope at the beginning, not because of a lack of milk supply (I had an over-abundance) but because of engorgement, cracked and bleeding nipples, blocked ducts, a baby (Emily) with a tiny mouth.  It was so hard but so worth it.

And it will stay with them, and me, for the rest of our lives.

Breastfeeding Emily for the first time with the help of my amazing midwife, Sarah.

Breastfeeding Hope on Day 1 or 2.  Hope was born at home and with a toddler around there were few chances for photos.

Breastfeeding Henry for the first time with the help of my other amazing midwife, Mina (different midwife because Henry was born in Kitchener).