Last night before we went to bed, Sofia asked me if Samina was still nursing. When I said no, that she hadn't for about a month now, Sofia asked me if Samina had cried. I said there really wasn't anything to cry about - I had never told her she had to stop. It was a decision she had for whatever reason come to on her own. Sofia leaned in and asked if my milk was all gone then - way more inquisitively than I would have expected her to be about the whole topic (after three years+, boobs and milk are sort of status quo in our house). Yes, I believe so. I believe all my milk is gone now.
Of course, this is all very bittersweet for me. I see Samina slowly growing up and moving past her newborn needs, including having me and my person, my body, all to herself (though, not to worry, the hand-down-the-shirt syndrome will last until college, I wager). Witnessing our children starting to explore the world autonomously is the most wondrous, most difficult thing we parents have the privelege of experiencing.
Breastfeeding has been extraordinary for me, for Samina - for the entire family, really. The Boob gave me a way to soothe Samina even through those moments when neither of us had any clue what was the matter. We were able to go on numerous trips and do almost unimaginable things with a young baby thanks to knowing we always had a solution on hand. Nursing managed to create a bond between all four of us that won't easily be broken, and it is nearly tangible. Through breastfeeding, we have soothed an infant, comforted a toddler, and normalized intimacy. Super power indeed.
I will miss this special time between us, Samina. But seeing that confident gleam in your eye, I know that I have served you well - and, as moms, there are not many times we have the conviction to say that.
