Oh, my heart

We are saying goodbye to milkies soon. For those of you who don't speak baby-talk, I'd say we're weaning, taking the final steps, finishing off the final feedings, phasing out, closing up the milkshake shop. And it makes me... sad. I know it's time, but I'll miss the simple connection of nursing, being able to soothe him instantly without words.

I can't bear to do it before Christmas, even though I easily could. I am waiting until the new year, as if it makes a difference. It feels like a cleaner break, but also it feels distant, like I'm not rushing it, not doing it too soon.

I wasn't planning to nurse so long. But then I'd never done any of this mothering stuff before, I didn't know what it would be like. I'm not militant about nursing or extended nursing, it's just turned out this way. I was lucky it came easy for us, and I know how lucky and blessed we are. Everyone doesn't get that. But with that ease and simplicity, I haven't been sure how to gracefully bring it to a close. I thought it would taper off naturally. I never wanted to force it before he was ready.

But it's time. I know it's time for me.

It feels like the last knell of babyhood. Even though Will is now huge and so terribly boyish, he still has such round little cheeks and a button nose and a rosy mouth and fluffy hair - he still looks like a baby to me. But I held babies last week and it reminds me that, no, he isn't a baby anymore.

I love this season and watching him grow, but there's something about saying goodbye to the baby phase that's so hard. I waited so long for it, and I don't know if it will come again. It's like finishing a perfect book and gasping on the last page and pressing it up to your chest. It was beautiful, but it's over.

Luckily babyhood is not a book without a sequel and toddlerhood is keeping me too busy to wallow in the blues.

But oh, my heart.