The End of an Era.
(This entry not for the squeamish or those uncomfortable with breast-feeding stories.)

My daughter is 14 months old and she has just stopped nursing. Although it imposed on my schedule, eating (and drinking) habits, it was an incredible experience that I’ll miss.

It’s hard to express the abundant associations that I have with nursing. It is a great reminder of how humans are animals. Some days I’m reminded of the resigned and exhausted mother dogs I saw growing up. The baby is such a determined little creature too--I’m amazed at her natural rooting and kneading instincts.

Being the debating sort, I had mentally prepared “nursing in public” arguments in case anyone confronted me. No one ever did. I was always discrete (I’ve finally learned discretion in something!) and had great conversations with people who had no clue that the baby in my arms was latched-on and eating. One guy I met wanted to shake my hand—I pointed out that I couldn’t and he almost ran away in embarrassment. I really appreciated the people who knew I was nursing and came over to talk to me anyway. Your mind doesn’t stop just because you’ve got a little one with you.

I’ve never been in league with the La Leche types, though. (They are a “militant” pro-nursing organization). Nursing is a personal thing. Yes it’s healthy and convenient, but it isn’t for everyone. Some La Leche members feel a mother should nurse at any cost. They use pressure and scare-tactics to guilt women into nursing. I find this insulting to a woman’s autonomy. You also can’t force someone to bond with a baby like that-- they’ll end up resenting the child. That cannot advance the ultimate goal of a healthy little person.

I nursed my son (now 7 years old) for 9 months. I went back to work after 3, so I had to take a pump to work and duck into a conference room at lunch time. (I would make calls during that time and tell people the noise in the background was a copier.) The nice thing was that he could drink the breast milk out of a bottle. Daycare workers, my husband and Will’s grandparents could feed him if I wanted to be away from him for more than 3 hours. Once I had to go to the Columbia office (about 100 miles away). They didn’t have a good place for me to pump, so I just headed back to Greenville thinking I could hold it. (It’s like having to pee—you can’t hold it!) I had to stop at a rest stop along the highway and use the pump with an AC adapter. I hid in the backseat under an umbrella, but I still think I gave a few truckers a shock. Trust me, there’s nothing natural or sexy about a breast pump. I was glad, therefore, when we transitioned my son to formula at 9 months and cow’s milk at a year.

Although it was hard to juggle while working, nursing my son was logistically easy. Neither he nor I had trouble learning how, and it’s great for the lazy sort. (No mixing bottles --just hook him on and go back to sleep!) My best friend from college was really surprised that I chose to nurse. I ‘m such a feminist and was so determined to keep working that she just assumed I’d feed the baby formula. The laziness explanation cleared that up pretty quickly, though. There was some pressure from my husband and mother-in law to nurse. (She had nursed him for 2 ½ years!) I had already decided that I was going to try, but wanted them to know it had been my decision—not theirs.

Reese and I had a rockier start. (I really can relate to my friends who tried but decided to go the other way due to supply, pain or illness.) She had learned to latch-on incorrectly. She had chewed up one side so badly the injury bled, and then scabbed! I had to take a hot shower to soften it before I fed her and endured lots of pain when she ate on that side. I took a long time to heal because she injured me again every time she fed. Had I not successfully nursed Will, Reese would have been on a bottle by the second week.

Reese has only taken a bottle with breast milk a few times with my friend Kelly, the miracle worker. Reese wanted the real thing! I haven’t used the pump in over a year. The first 4 or 5 months I could only be away from her for a couple hours. When I did get her into part-time daycare (2X a week, 5 hours at a time) she just didn’t drink anything until I picked her up! Still, we both took regular breaks to cuddle-up together. It was wonderful to be able to console her no matter what she was upset about. Now she drinks organic cow’s milk from a cup, but the last four months (when she started the moo juice and I started weaning her) I still nursed her 3 or 4 times a day. I dropped the feedings one at a time until we were down to one, early each morning.

It’s hard to believe that I’ll miss it this time, but it’s an intimacy that I’ll never know again. This is one of the things you can’t explain to non procreators. Children allow you to experience a different type of intimacy. It’s mandatory and sometimes brutal, but the rewards are deeply fulfilling --if only apparent to you.

Just so I don’t sound too altruistic, I’ve enjoyed having a great rack over the last year, too.