Baby Nursling

It's been a month since we last nursed. It was the Friday afternoon before he turned 2. I cried. Exactly a week before Bowie's birthday was the time that could have been forgotten. He nursed to sleep and then for five days, didn't nurse again. He asked, I offered, he pretended to nurse, he kissed my breasties, he laid on them...but didn't nurse. And that Friday afternoon when he asked to nurse and DID nurse, well, I knew that I couldn't go back now. I cried as he slept. This may be the only child I have, the only person I nurse. And was it really over? Yes.

I had philosophically committed to child led weaning. But I hadn't seen it happen in person. Just a week or so before I had a conversation with a wonderful friend about nursing. I had said, "You know I think they give up naps around four. If he needs to nurse to sleep then I think I can do this until then. As long as he needs it, I have no problem with that." And I do think I might have if he needed me to. But he didn't. And I was frankly relieved. And shocked. Just days before we couldn't take a shower without him wanting to nurse, reaching for me with jubilant expectaion. He still expressed great admiration. What happened?

I have a few theories. One is that he heard that conversation and decided, "Hey, I AM done napping. I don't want to nap anymore so I won't nurse anymore." For weeks previously he had been asking to nurse on the couch, in the chair, on the floor. I believe it's because he knew that everytime he nursed he slept. For most of the past year the only time he nursed was to fall asleep on the bed. So first he tried eliminating the bed, then found something he could truly control. If he didn't nurse, perhaps he wouldn't have to sleep! Eureka! If this was his intention, he has been partially successful. Nap time is very different now. And naps don't happen everyday. It's harder. Sometimes I wish that he still nursed.

The other is that he overheard another conversation with another friend. We were driving home from a strawberry farm and our children were asleep behind us. She told me that her boyfriend wanted her to stop nursing before their daughter turned two. I bit my tongue. I don't really relish bashing men we love. But I wondered if Bowie somehow heard this. Unlikey.

But the one that may seem to be the farthest fetched idea is the one in which I place the most confidence. His needs were met. He knew this. He chose to stop. I know that this sounds crazy to many. But to me, it is just another of many proofs Bowie has shown me that he will mature with his own inborn grace without me pressing him to race towards independence. Because it is his choice, this is his true independence. I know how lucky we are. This is rare. I have many totally loving, patient friends who have not experienced the end of nursing in this way. I know better than to imagine that I brought this to fruition or that Bowie is some sort of marvel of self-esteem (although he IS my buddha baby). But I know I helped it happen by being open to it.

That Friday afternoon Bowie slept on my bed and I wondered what to do. Could I go back to nursing again, after five days? No. He had shown me that he didn't need to nurse. He had shown me that I was ready to let go of my mother's milk. When he woke up, I held him and told him that we could nurse one more special tme. That this would be the last time we ever nursed. He declined.