Turn Turn TurnEvery morning it starts the same way: as soon as the first slivers of light break the horizon, my blissful sleep is interrupted with wandering hands and a sweet little voice saying
“Mama, the sun’s awake. Milkies, milkies…”
Soon that sweet voice dissolves into tears of frustration because the rule is “No milkies until the sun is awake” and we obviously have differing opinions on what makes the sun awake and every morning I decide that enough is enough, and it’s time for this boy to wean 100%. He’ll be 3 in November and there is no reason for this child to STILL be nursing. I was a La Leche League leader, I know the guidelines! Nursing is a partnership; once one partner is done, both are done. You should not resent your nursing relationship; better to end on good terms than on bad terms. I’m over the interrupted sleep, I’m tired of having my tummy mole rubbed raw, I’m tired of little hands pawing at my shirts, I’m tired of batting little palms from my unoccupied nipple.
And yet, I just can’t end it.
I’ve been breastfeeding someone for the last 8 years. I’ve watched my newborns turn into chubby infants to lean toddlers to curious preschoolers to running, jumping, playing KIDS! I’ve used nursing to soothe the aches and pains of learning to walk, to run, to live and I’ve used nursing to settle restless souls, to stop tears, to be a port in a storm. Nursing was the best parenting trick that I had and it was mine, all mine.
With the girls, weaning was no big deal. Lucia was a nursing newborn when Brigid weaned at 30 months of age. Lucia weaned while we were driving cross-country to California at 26 months. While she did wean earlier than *I* wanted her to, I was OK because I knew that we’d have another baby to start nursing. But, that’s not the case anymore. I don’t know if we will have another child but all signs point to “No.” In my mind, this is it; once this child weans that part of my life is done.
And it scares me to death.
It scares me to know that I won’t be able to make it all better by giving of myself. It scares me to think that I will never again fill a need with something as basic and simple as milk. It scares me to know that every day they are pulling a bit further away. Every day, my babies need me a little bit less than the day before while my children still need me but in a changing way.
But that’s what parenting is, isn’t it? Parenting means giving your kids the tools and the means to be their own persons. It means giving them a safe place to land when they fall and helping them back up to try again. It’s helping them navigate the pits of life while letting them make mistakes. Everything we start to do as parents will come, one day, to an end and something new will take its place. The only constant in this ride of parenting is that things change.
And change is scary.
Together we learn new tricks and skills but I’m not ready for those new tricks. We will encounter new obstacles and figure out ways around those obstacles together, but I don’t want to see those obstacles. My husband and I will learn to be parents of older children, just as we learned to be parents of newborns, but I’m not ready to say good-bye to the newborns.
And I don’t have to be ready. All I have to do is keep in mind that this is a small part in a bigger plan for me. I don’t have to know the steps, but I do have to trust in the fact that those steps are ordered and the one who created heaven and earth will not let me, nor my children, fall. Obedience is hard, especially when that obedience means letting go to the plans you have for yourself.
The time will come when the nursing will have ended but hopefully the love and trust that was laid in place will persist. But until that time, I’ll breathe in his scent, feel his body snuggled close to mine and know for this small moment in time, no matter how big he is, he’s still my baby.