Yes, Amelia, this is the last time you will breastfeed. I'm writing this with tears as you happily snack away unknowingly. Squeezing my breast with fondness and reaching your other hand out to hold mine as you always do. Pulling my tank top strap and snapping it with a cheeky grin. Pausing mid-meal to look and me and smile, making sure I'm still here. (I'm still here. I'll always be here.) Taking a break every 10 seconds for 5 seconds just like the lactation specialist said to expect the day you entered the world. And what a day that was. I was so lucky to have that amazing experience moms dream about... where the nurse put you on my chest after my C-section and you happily sucked away. You knew just what to do. I mean, it couldn't have felt more natural and wonderful. Even the lactation coach said you were a champ! She showed me a couple tricks (making sure you made a fish face and put your lower lip in the right place) and we got off to a pretty good start.
It took about 7 days for my milk to come in, so I rented a pump for the hospital to get things going. I remember only being able to pump enough to give you a teeny syringe-full of colostrum at first. Soon, I felt like I was carrying two boulders when the milk finally came in, and felt so satisfied to satisfy you. I remember weighing you before and after each feed the first month to make sure you were getting enough; supplementing with formula for the first two weeks. Crying when I knocked over a batch that took 30 long minutes to produce. Trying every possible pillow combination to get comfortable (I found it finally). You hungrily opening you mouth and latching on with enthuastic vigor. Stroking your hair and back as you shut your eyes to savor my milk. And those adorable rosy cheeks. Hearing those sugary, lovable, happy sounds of fulfillment, the coos my mom told me she loved so much when she nursed me when I was your age. Grabbing for your sweet feet as you got older (and more flexible). Rocking you gently after eating. Feeling like a rockstar when I could get you to burp (and then laughing when you spat up all over me with a huge smile on your face- and puppy licking it off the floor). Nursing you on a plane at 2 months. Feeling comfortable enough to nurse openly at my new moms group with others doing the same for the first time. Nursing proudly (undercover) in public. Feeling relieved after 3 months when nursing sessions decreased to 6 times a day instead of 8. From 45 minutes (phew!) to 30 (YES!). The fear of change when I went back to work. Spending 30 minutes 3 times a day for 3 months pumping in a closet at work like a hermit. Rewatching iPhone videos and scrolling through my favorite pictures of you to help with my second letdown. The sighs of relief when Daddy washed my pump parts every night. The frustration I felt when Daddy and I got a stomach bug (luckily you were fine) and my pumping output was cut in half.
I made the decision to stop pumping at 6 months after much deliberation. I was so stressed trying to make the amount of milk you needed - drinking mother's milk tea daily from the very start and oatmeal every morning, fenugreek pills 3 times a day, seaweed every night, a Guinness on occasion (we both enjoyed that!) and even eating 4000 calories for two weeks (gaining 10 pounds) after the lactation specialist said to give it one last shot. I felt so shocked when daycare first told me you needed more to eat (at 4 months, and still more at 5 months). I couldn't keep up and made the decision to give you one bottle of formula at daycare every day. Then, two (half of your daycare supply), then three, and finally all of the four bottles (still breastfeeding morning and night - today being the last day of that schedule).
Today, you turned 7 months old. You are cutting your first two teeth (bottom middle). There are 30 4-ounce bags of milk the freezer (I hope most of them smell fresh - I worked very hard for them!). So, you will get a bottle of breastmilk every morning for another month. I will still enjoy our special, intimate morning time and savor our cuddles together, just now with a bottle instead. You'll hopefully have had just over 8 months of breastmilk and I feel very proud. But, it is time to put away the real milk bags. I can't believe how long we made it. After a surgery at age 20, I didn't even think breastfeeding would be realistic. Every time I nursed you, I felt so lucky for so many reasons. Lucky I was able. Lucky your father was my biggest supporter, often hanging out with us during feeds. Lucky that my only gripe was not being able to give you enough milk; I was rarely sore and didn't have to deal with many of the horror stories I heard about. Lucky you were a flexible little feeder (you slept through the night since 4 weeks and you love real food too!) and do so well with change. Going from breast to bottle, formula to breastmilk, mommy to daddy to grandparents to daycare, car to plane to pool to restaurant, purées to chunky mash. Lucky for the unbelievable bond breastfeeding created between us.
I'm sorry I'm not making enough to fill your growing belly, but you are healthy and happy and I know that while this decision is bittersweet, I am doing the right thing for both of us. Thank you for the wild ride. I know you had a good, delicious time, too. Know I'll never forget this time. The 24/7 boob interaction. The worrying, the unpredictability, but most of all the many pleasures. And even though you won't remember it, please know I'm eternally grateful for the experience you created for me.
