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“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” ~ Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

14 months postpartum and I am sitting at my office desk with a breastmilk stain on my blouse *eyeroll*. Such a novice move.

Knowing how difficult the breastfeeding journey has been for so many women, I am ever mindful of how blessed I am to have had such a long and relatively easy breastfeeding journey. Tooth marks on my nipples are really nothing compared to the stress and pain other mums have felt while trying to breastfeed.

Be that as it may, seeing Nate gradually drinking less and less and opting more and more for his water-filled sippy cup rather than boobies, I know that the journey is drawing to a close and I am battling with conflicting emotions.

Gratitude that we have made it this far. Sadness that our special bonding exercise will be no more. The pride that my boy is growing up and becoming more independent. Fear and anticipation of the new stage of the journey.  Relief that I will get to wear whatever I want regardless of whether it has boob access or not and that breast pads are about to be a thing of the past. Those things are so not sexy. Speaking of sexy, the excitement that my boobs will be turning back into sexual organs rather than a kitchen-on-the-go and that Nate will stop pulling my boob out willy nilly for a quick sip.

It’s truly bittersweet.

So what comes next?

Nate has steadily refused to drink any of the different kinds of formula we offered him and recently spit out cow’s milk. He even refuses to use his baby bottles. Besides breastmilk, his drink of choice is water in his sippy cup. He won’t drink it from a bottle. All this means that I have to make sure that his meal plans have enough of the right kind of nutrients built in for him to stay healthy and strong.  Wow, God. I am entirely responsible for another human being’s nutrition. It’s strangely deep when you actually think about it.

It just occurred to me that there is one more upside… maybe after we finally stop breastfeeding, Nate won’t think that any time he sees my boobs its the equivalent of shouting “come and get it!!!” anymore

There are no haters here though. Just a baby who moves as fast as mine when he spots mummy’s boobies.

 

 

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