A Bittersweet Farewell To Nursing… Or Not

I’ve been weaning Kyen from nursing, and was prepared for this morning’s nursing to be the last one. But tonight as I read Mav a goodnight story, I hear Kyen crying from his room though he is supposed to be asleep. It’s a soft cry, not like his blood-curdling scream that he’s known for. It lands square in the center of my heart. I interpret his cry to be an asking for special time with me, a quiet moment where we can hold each other, he can drink a little, the world will slow down, and he’ll fall asleep in contentment. I realize that without these moments of nursing, I get very little Mama-Ky time, like the Mama-Mav time I get with Mav after Ky goes to sleep. My heart breaks a little and I find it hard to focus on Mav and our bedtime routine. I snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug him and turn out the light.

I walk quietly to Ky’s room and hear that little cry, the sad, gentle calling for me. I crack his door and see him standing in his crib flashing a big tired smile at me, the big smile he’s also known for. I pick him up and his body melts into mine like a missing puzzle piece. I’m not sure if I have any milk left since I haven’t nursed him in a few nights, but I offer my breast and he takes it with fervor.

I hold him and stay off my phone, which has been a major time passer through all of nursing. Instead of checking my email or reading the news, I hold his hand, study his face, rub his back. I don’t know how many more nights or even moments like this we will have. But I do know that I am going to enjoy them. Life is easier without nursing, but he will never be a baby again, and I likely won’t have another baby to nurse either.

As I lightly run my hand across his peach fuzz blond hair that’s finally growing in, I think of the conversation I had with Mav just ten minutes earlier. He had wanted me to carry him down the stairs to get his jammies, but I told him I couldn’t. My back has been bothering me and “You are getting too big to carry all the time,” I said.

“Why am I too big to carry, Mama?” he asked. Why is his new favorite saying.

“Because you are growing too fast,” I answered.

“Why am I growing too fast?”

I thought about it. I try to be straightforward with him and tell him the truth, rather than dumbing things down since he’s a child.

“You are not growing too fast, honey. You are growing just right, but it feels very fast to me,” I said. “It feels like just a few months ago you were a little baby like Kyen, exploring the world, learning to walk, putting everything in your mouth. Now you are such a big boy, talking in long sentences, telling me stories, teaching Kyen how to play. I miss you being a baby, but I love who you are now.”

He accepted my explanation. “I love you too, Mom,” he answered. Luckily, that’s also one of his favorite sayings.

Back to Kyen, I glance down at my peaceful baby and take in his sweet innocent face, soft skin, and light eye lashes. I take in all of him, even his smell, which I hope I’ll never forget.

Little did I know, this would be our last night of nursing. I’m glad it was a memorable one.

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