It’s a common sentiment amongst mothers young and old, the time that once went by so slowly now passes more quickly than one thought possible. I often lay here, nursing my toddler into slumber and thinking about our journey so far.
We have many days ahead of us, but the days gone by are what I hold closest to my heart. His little hand grasping my thumb for comfort, or when he would reach behind his ear and twirl his baby curls. The curls have been cut away, but his wandering hand still grasps for something, and his little twitching fingers make me smile as I wonder whatever is on his mind.
I oftentimes stare at his hazel eyes and think how much he looks like his dad, but then he will smile or smirk and I see that he is my son. Just as he nursed seventeen months ago for the first time, he still nurses and sometimes even giggles while he nurses.
We were lucky to get off to a good nursing start. While we had difficulty latching, we were given a shield right away to assist us through our first twelve weeks. We eventually weaned off the shield when it fell on an airplane and we couldn’t locate it. Gone be that shield, and thank goodness.
While there was pain and awkwardness we pushed through and here we are at seventeen months and still nursing on demand. It’s funny to say “on demand,” because we nurse instinctually. If he is hungry he will eat, and I would be cruel to not allow him to nurse. Sometimes I’m tired and wish he would wean, but I know that’s not what is best for my baby.
In the community we surround ourselves with, nursing at seventeen months, is the norm. I don’t feel out of place and that feeling cannot be said for all moms.
I thank Atticus for taking me along on this journey. Seventeen months and counting, I don’t know when we will wean, but I do know that we will continue to nurse this month, maybe next and possibly even six months from now.