I had a realisation tonight. My baby is 6 months old. I have planned to breastfeed him until he’s a year old…halfway there. And I’m so not ready to think about weaning.
I thought I would be eager to wean. I thought I would be ready to have my boobs back, my room back, my bed back…
but it’s not that simple.
I always thought it was weird when mothers said that they loved nursing. I guess I just thought of it anatomically instead of the connection side of it.
And now, I am that mother saying to you that I love nursing. Nursing is a time when I can cradle my baby, cuddle him, and savour my moments with him as a baby. As he gets older and busier, nursing is a time when he is still and cuddly. Nursing is a time when I can breathe in and relax, forgetting my anxieties and troubles. Nursing not only provides me with a sacred time with my son, but also I know I am giving him the best gift of nourishment physically and emotionally. I am giving him the gift of antibodies, vitamins, minerals, lowered risk of disease, and a place of comfort and security. I’m giving myself a decreased risk of breast cancer and, again, time to sit down and quiet my soul.
It makes me cry to think about giving this beautiful ritual up anytime soon. Because my baby wouldn’t wean on his own for 2-4 years, and maybe that’s what he needs. Because when he does wean, he will be a little less my baby and a little more grown up. And both of those realisations sting. Oh, my heart.
I will cherish every second and hope that we’re both ready when the time comes…whether that’s at 1 year or beyond.