Bye-Bye, Boobs that Feed

Tonight is the night. The last time I’ll breastfeed my baby. Looking back, it’s wild to think I’ve spent nearly 3 years collectively nursing my two boys.

I’ve nursed in a car, on a plane, on the beach, on the train, with my eyes closed in the dark, on the grass in the park. On the greenbox on a busy street and while teething? I’ve nursed and nursed on repeat. Under a cabana in the sunshine, waiting at the passport line. Near and far, early and late, how I would feed my babies was never up for debate.

I even used an app to track feed times and what ‘side’ I was on. So helpful and so extra.

Let’s not forget the pumping. All. The. Pumping. Me and my Medela. Cleaning all those parts was a real pain in the ass.

With my firstborn I had this fear that my milk would dry up, or I might develop some random illness that would pull me away from him and require my extended absence.  I figured if I stockpiled pumped milk I might be able to wean earlier while still giving him bottles of breastmilk. So every day and night I’d pump a bag or two of milk.

Was I preparing for the apocalypse? At one point I had about one hundred 4-6 ounce bags of milk in the dedicated basement freezer! What the hell was I going to do with 500+ ounces of milk, bagged, tagged and catalogued on a rotation? Plus, whenever the power would go out, oh my God how I feared their expiration.

While both boys took to nursing quite naturally, the experience was not always easy and I definitely had my share of adversity. One was tongue-tied; I got mastitis with the other. Leaky boobs and cracked bloody nips. Internal pressure to eat healthy and consume non-gassy meals. I had nursing strikes with both. Supply struggles. Often worried they weren’t getting enough. Tack on being met with outspoken critics of nursing, especially when they learned my child’s age (is there such a thing as “too old?”) which brought me feelings of it all being a bit shameful. It’s not by the way.

Reflecting back, I treasure the nursing sessions, but there were many times it felt laborious and made my skin itch so bad I wouldn’t have survived without my phone distracting me. 

Don’t get me wrong even with all the breastfeeding bumps in the road, in some ways it was much easier and practical to just nurse: no bottles to clean, meal’s ready to go, warmed to the perfect temp, pure goodness straight from the tap. Yes, you are essentially a milk keg.

Breastfeeding always kind of felt like a mommy superpower, something only I could offer him. If someone asked what my trick was to help calm the baby cries, I didn’t really have any foolproof solutions other than breastfeeding.

Sure, it made it difficult for anyone else to take over those fussy periods or night shifts with an otherwise inconsolably crying baby, but on the other hand I had so many times where I felt like I could come to the rescue and solve the world’s problems.

When all else failed with each soothing technique in my arsenal, I knew that I could settle the emotions, pain, or discomfort with a caress and a drink. Breastmilk is like the perfect barista crafted latte - pun intended - with your particular twist on syrup selection, frothiness quotient and espresso type right at your fingertips. Liquid gold. No wonder baby likey.

That said, luckily the kids were never really obsessive over the boob, so after a few months we got on a more predictable feeding schedule and I felt less booby-trapped so to speak.

I always knew I would try my best to nurse my babies, working towards smaller goals of nursing those first precious 6 weeks, up towards 6 months and beyond. The ultimate goal to begin a slow weaning process around one year to coincide with returning to full-time work.

A small operation for my eldest led to extending that plan until nearly 16 months. So in an effort to be fair, I wanted to give little brother the same advantages that breastmilk provides. But as 16 months approached, so did fevers, colds, and tooth after tooth erupted. As an added bonus, the inability to sleep through the night was still as present as ever. Moreover, we were travelling quite a bit and let me tell you, nothing will stop a crying baby on a plane better! So nursing stuck around as part of our routine to quickly get everyone back to sleep at night and over every other hurdle imaginable. Although with both boys I did start slowly scaling back around the one year mark in an attempt to make weaning seamless for both of us. 

As we approached and passed 18 months there were eye rolls when people heard my “big boy” was still suckling at night. Serious question: what is up with the lack of support for something so natural? This criticism is often disguised as well-meaning advice suggesting baby might sleep through the night if I cut him off the milk-wagon and opt to give a bottle, I might add.

But as most mothers (should) do, I trusted my instincts on when the time would be right for both of us. I can proudly (but not too loudly, because jinxing sleep is a real thing) say that my son has been sleeping through the night for almost 3 weeks straight! All his teeth are in, no more travel plans are on the calendar, and we are currently flu-free. The stars have aligned and the time is right to finally, fully wean. 

Now is the final countdown to what may very well be the last baby I’ll ever nurse and while I’m ready, and he’s ready, it’s all a bit sad. For literally his entire life, inside and outside the womb, I’ve grown and fed this baby with my body (and have boobs at my belly button that prove it).

Milestones such as these are so often bittersweet. I’ll forever have engraved memories of the sweet smell of my babies milky breath, the way their fingers would trace my side ribs during a feed or feeling all the feels whenever they’d lay their open palm flat on my chest full and content. Urgency as they rooted for me, as if searching for - and blissfully finding - that incomparable comforting embrace. So many times falling asleep on the rocking chair in one another’s arms before, during, and after a feed.

Saying goodbye to one part of our relationship makes room for other ways to connect. Of course we will still have our hugs and cuddles. After all, I’ve taught my kids that they can always reach to me for comfort, to feel safe.

Tonight I put my baby to bed differently than I will tomorrow. Fortunately, my kids always know they have me arms wide open whenever they need - that’s the real mommy superpower. So what if I no longer have boobs that feed.