Nursing a Toddler

I am the last person I thought would be nursing a little boy who walks around with his 13 teeth and the ability to pull my shirt down or lift it up when he wants milk.

Like literally the last person.

But here we are, over 15 months into our journey, still going strong. I honestly didn’t know if I’d be on board with nursing. While I knew it was totally natural— one of these most natural things in the world, really— I didn’t know if I would be able to do it, emotionally. The female body, especially our breasts, are so sexualized, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to disconnect from that. I also knew breastfeeding could be really hard and demanding, so even if I could mentally manage, I didn’t know if I physically could.

As it turned out, it all clicked for us and Bruce and I just fit together. There have been moments so beautiful, pure, and innocent that I’ve cried, in total awe and gratitude. Those first weeks, when his hair was down soft and the whole experience just felt like home to us both. There have been moments that are just comical, milk spraying around like it’s flowing from a geyser, and of course there have been moments where I’ve felt so exhausted, depleted, and touched out that I’ve wanted to tear myself away and run around screaming and crying.

I get why they call it a journey now.

Full of twists and turns, disappointments, and lovely surprises. I can feel in my heart that our journey is coming to its end... I’m craving some space. I’m growing tired of feeling like a baboon, with my chest spilling out of my top in my backyard, as my little monkey crawls all over me. I’m mostly ready for the next chapter of us, mother and son. I wonder if I’ll know the last time he’ll ever nurse as it’s happening, or if it will be like so many other milestones and moments, just passing us by as it unfolds. Will tears roll down my cheek, like they did the first time?