This was absolutely the last time I was going to sit in this chair in this oh so familiar position. One arm automatically supporting his little back while feeling the soft cotton of his onesie. The other hand, caressing his silky blond hair.
His legs were now too long and his little feet kicked the arm of the chair and rubbed the chenille fabric as he drew out the milk.
I didn’t KNOW it was the last time.
My heart didn’t know.
My head didn’t know.
I thought maybe.
But I didn’t KNOW.
He didn’t know it either.
Of course not.
For the rest of that day I went about my usual routine, emptying the dishwasher, vacuuming the carpet, watching some television. I heard the familiar sound of the air conditioner clicking on and off, over and over, all the while my two boys running about the house making their little boy noises. Later, playing with their blocks and trucks and puzzles.
The three of us eventually escaped out the back door to blow bubbles. Laughing and squealing ensued as the sparkly spheres disappeared into the warm air, their small hands reaching for something that was no longer there. I smiled, marveling at the bright sun highlighting their lovely locks, wishing I had an internal recorder for their sweet voices.
Everyone went to bed that night peacefully. Bellies full.
The next day he never wanted it. I never offered.
The day after that, the same.
The following morning I stood at the kitchen sink looking out the window, the scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins wafting in the air and I realized it – we were done.
Now he would rather have a muffin to devour from the seat of his high chair. Today I would give him a cup
of milk to accompany it.
He’d moved on and now it was my turn. Part of me was SO ready but other parts were not. My heart part mostly.
That weekend we went out with friends and I shared with them that my baby was done nursing.
I explained how it just kind of happened and how I was still getting used to it.
I nudged my husband and gave a half smile as he spoke these most truthful words,
“She thought she wouldn’t miss it. She was wrong.”
Write a short piece – 600 words max – that begins with the words, “This was absolutely the last time” and ends with “She was wrong.”
That was perfect! Love it! I have mixed feelings about the end of breastfeeding, I want to stop (it’s 17 months now) but I know I’ll miss it. Sigh,
I absolutely love this, Elaine!
Oh this is great. I love your writing so much.
Oh Elaine, yes! I so get this! I did feel those same exact feelings. So ready to be done, but really so not. You really captured that duality here.
On a writerly note, I love that you grasped at nonfiction here. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to do that this time around.
Way to go lady!
*Siiiiiggghhhhhhh*
yep. been there. know this feeling. the bittersweet.
thank you for writing this!! all these sweet tender warm fuzzies about my babies.. 🙂
This is so bittersweet. I think the end of “baby-ness” is hardest on the mommy.
This got me. Beautiful writing.
I knew that my last nursing was my last. I cried throughout it, not wanting to let go of the tenderness. But yet, I was also a bit relieved, on another level.
It’s just so lovely to have those quiet baby moments together.
Okay, new rule for myself – no more reading blog posts at work, because I start crying and it’s BAD! Man, I loved this. I remember the last day I breastfed my oldest son, he was six months old, and in the children’s hospital, his second stay, for a kidney condition. He nursed so much. Then he threw up. And that was the last time. He was drinking some formula then, too, but after that, it was done. I don’t remember the exact day with my second son, but I know it was when he was six months old, too, and we were in Florida. I think the plane ride back home might have been the last time.
Oh, I can so relate to this!! You did an amazing job writing this. Loved it!
Beautiful, Elaine. 🙂
I read this last night before bed and was so touched. I waited to re-read to comment. This was beautiful. I love how you wrapped it up and how the last line came from someone else. It was so real, and so heartwarming and crushing all at once. Thanks for sharing.
This is such a heartfelt post. Very sweet 🙂
Oh I felt this one, love your imagery….it brought me back to my breasfeeding days and how quickly it ended without me noticing..
Loved this!
So so sweet. Mommy moments are the ones we never forget.
Beautiful yet so bitter sweet. I’ve been there twice. I don’t know if we are ever ready to give it up. Nice write, so tender. You’re a good mama!
This was beautiful. My life these days. WEaning and wondering. Excellent post!
Ok, as a father I never did nurse any of my children but I can relate to the excitement and bittersweetness of growth.
It is hard to watch them grown and yet you cheer and push them along because it is so exciting.
Awwwwww. I remembered when that happened to me! Nobody quite understands this like a mommy who has nursed. It’s like they are all of the sudden grown up and they really don’t need JUST YOU anymore…… :::sniff, sniff:::
Here’s to another new chapter in your life 🙂
This was soooo good, Elaine. I could just feel it. I saw this prompt and wondered where people would go with it. I love what you’ve done.
I meant to tell you that I loved this post, but it seems I did not. It’s was great. And I’m also so curious about the whole nursing thing–it got my wheels turning.