the milk and bean connection

Nineteen months. For nineteen months, Finley nursed between two and a baker's dozen times a day. For nineteen months, Finley and I would stare at each other in an unspoken contest of "No, I love you more." I can't speak for the bonding that occurs for the baby, but the bonding that occurs for the mom during these moments is one-of-a-kind. I count myself as immeasurably blessed that I was able to nurse Lucas for twenty-seven months [until I was 3 months pregnant with Finley] and Finley for nineteen months [until I was 6 months pregnant with this kumquat].

I knew when we were planning on our third wee one that most likely this would mean not nursing Finley for a full two years like I wanted to. I know that some moms are able to keep their supply up and their baby interested in the ever changing tastes of the milk during pregnancy, but I knew that was not a guarantee. I knew it was likely that this pregnancy would be a natural catalyst for weaning Finley. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but this was definitely one of the big "well, maybe we should hold off for a while longer then" issues for me. But we decided to go with it anyway and I just knew I needed to treasure each nursing session throughout this pregnancy as I would never know which time would be the last. 

The last time he would pat my chest approvingly as he happily sucked away.

The last time he would try to grab my hair dangling in his face.

The last time he would curl his ice cold hands in the oh so warm space between our bellies. 

The last time he would enthusiastically clap after drinking his fill.
The last time he would somehow manage to giggle and grin all without losing his latch.

The last time.

And yet the last time came and I can't say I was 100% ready for it. In some ways I was ready. Because, just realistically, the further along I got in this pregnancy and the bigger my stomach grew and the older/stronger/wigglier Finley became, the more difficult/bothersome/tiring it was to get those daily nursing sessions in. So yes, in some ways, I was ready to be done and I had to fight the guiltiness that came with feeling ready. But honestly? I didn't want to be done. I wanted to give him two years of me and him moments. I wanted him to be my baby for just that much longer. I wanted to delay this seemingly irrational "he no longer needs me" melancholy.

I know it's silly to feel like he no longer needs me. I know he hasn't "needed" the milk for a while. And I fully know, trust me, that he does indeed need me in every other way [he needs me to put on his hat right now, dance with him right now, pick up that piece of fuzz right now before it moves again, make him his lunch bowl before he starves to death, etc]. But it's all part of this mom business, this weird moment of grieving that your baby cannot be attached to you [both literally and figuratively] as much as you want for as long as you want. They need to grow. They have to grow. And there's nothing you can do about it but mourn in the moment and learn to embrace the never-stopping future.

So for now I'll allow myself a good cry, some irrational thoughts, and some extra chocolate. And then I have a little less than three months until the new little kumquat arrives in all his squishy, milk-sucking, literally-needs-all-the-things baby glory and I'll strap in for the crazy ride of three little boys.

We were discussing things we needed to do before May at dinner the other day [ie. everything] and this gem of an exchange happened:

Me: "I need to make big batches of black beans and put them in the freezer for when the baby comes."

Lucas: "Yeah, and when the baby comes, you need to make BIG batches of milk in your boobs!"

I have taken care of the big batches of beans [thank you, instant pot] and our freezer is a bean haven just waiting to be plundered post-baby. And now, thanks to Finley, I will begin work on the big batches of milk for the kumquat in May. So life strolls along as it should.

my little milk baby [he brought this upon himself, promise]