The end of an Era
The Baby Boobely Mufflers have officially retired.
(Our oldest son named them this as they would make a crying baby sibling quiet.)
Last night was the first night since early August 2016 that I was not pregnant, breastfeeding, or both. I realized I have never mothered before without growing at least one child with my body - whether from the inside or outside. I am stepping into completely new terrain.
As everyone made their way to bed - our oldest with our dog Daphne, and my spouse with our youngest - I suddenly found myself in a room all by myself. Of course, I’ve been dreaming of this for months, if not more, yet suddenly finding myself here was a bit of a shock.
I am grateful I saw this coming, so I took time in recent weeks especially to be really present to breastfeeding our youngest. To really take it in. All of it. The lovely feeling of oxytocin growing alongside the frustration over the busy hands pinching me. The closeness creating comfort most of the times, and sometimes wanting more space. Overall, really anchoring the love for this part of motherhood.
Maybe it is because I am also on my bleed, a time I use to do a lot of sitting and comtemplating as it is so easy to find answers to tough questions during this time. Last night I really took the time to sit down with a cup of tea and to write it out. I always have a journal at hand, yet it is usually more to quickly write down a powerful insight I have, or to write down someone else’s quote that is really moving, or some notes on a webinar that I want to be able to read again. To really write out my experience is something I haven’t done much of since being a teenager.
I backtracked a bit to when I was a baby and was weaned. I was weaned a few weeks after my birth. Having done a lot of reading on development, trauma etc, I was surprised that with my lack of breastfeeding myself as a baby and a traumatic first birth of our oldest son, how breastfeeding came so easy and natural, and I never grew tired of it. However, where it showed up was when it was time for my journey with each boy to end. I had hoped that the children would wean themselves, loose interest, or some other form of non-confrontational end to this journey. It wasn’t my journey: both boys required me to stop it. I don’t think that was a coincidence. I think there was a lot of healing in stopping at a time and in a way that I wish my baby-self had had. Not that there were any big aha moments here, and it felt easeful both times in hindsight.
In the end, my body couldn’t keep up with the demands of the nuclear family set up, a spouse who leaves for periods of time for work (this winter 4 x 3 week stints), and growing a human with my own body. Once our boys were 3 years old, the benefit for them just didn’t outweigh the detriment to my body and mental health. Our oldest was weaned a little over 3, when I would literally fall asleep each time he had milk, as I was also growing a baby inside of me. This was a bit of a safety concern when it was just the 2 of us.
Both boys were at an age where I could talk to them about it in advance, and they were able to voice their opinions. I really loved that. Our oldest didn’t care too much - probably because I was quite pregnant already and the milk apparently changes flavour (less enjoyable). However our youngest especially required a lot of reassurance, and a lot of time to contemplate and prepare for this change. While he was really proud this morning (and excited about the presents that were part of the weaning), when I asked him if he was a bit sad about it, he said “yes”. I said “me too”. It baffled him a bit, and he asked me why I was sad. I explained that I really enjoyed this way of connecting with him, and so to loose that was making me a bit sad. He said “yes, I gave my love to you that way and you gave yours to me!” I was really amazed at how well he put that - about the reciprocity of breastfeeding that we often miss. And I promised we just will find another way to share our love with each other, like the hugs and kisses he so enjoys also.
Of course there are the concerns too, that come with this, especially when alone at night, ha. What will happen to my boobs, haha!? I have to be honest that I am not yet 100% happy with the visible result of carrying 2 babies, even if I would never have it any other way due to the gratitude I have for that experience of pregnancy. Maybe the boobs flattening out and moving south will help me really grapple with the mother body, and the distortion in our culture of only ever appreciating a maiden body.
And also, how will bedtime go from now on when my spouse is away for work. Milk has made that easy - one would be asleep fast so the other didn’t have to wait alone too long for a tuck in/talk about the day/snuggle session. However, like before, sometimes change means an upgrade. Maybe this means we will do bedtime altogether, and the boys move in together as we have talked about often. Not years of cosleeping between parents and child, but cosleeping of siblings. We’ll see…
I am scared that our youngest too will snuggle me less and be more focused on dad, as that is what happened with our oldest. However, our oldest also had to make room for a little sibling, so maybe that was more a reflection of that phase - after all the snuggles have made a return in the recent year or so.
My intention is for later this week to have a little ceremony by the river. I envision flowing water taking away petals of 2 beautiful white flowers, while I say something meaningful to the boys.
Another intention I have is to fully let this part of my motherhood journey dissolve. Only then can I fully step into the next phase. Let me not run ahead of myself here and vision things out. It is like a 3-in-1 Lego set: first you go to take every single piece apart before you can build another awesome toy. :)
