.jpg)
.jpg)
I spent 17.25 cumulative months growing my babies, and 30 cumulative months feeding them. All by the Grace and the miraculous design of a woman's body. My body.
I don't take it for granted that I had the fortune to feel my babies turning and stretching within me until they came through me into this world. I don't gloss over the commitment and devotion it required to stick with breastfeeding even when I had a newborn that wouldn't latch or suckle well for 9 weeks straight. I don't downplay the surrender it took to feed my children on demand around the clock in attempt keep my supply adequate. I'm proud of myself for the courage I conjured up to stick to my guns and pump at work no matter what, even when I was the only one that continued breastfeeding past a few months, even when there was no privacy, even when the career oriented world around me misunderstood me and rolled their eyes with annoyed judgement at my perseverance. It wasn't always easy, yet it was the simplest, most practical thing in the world for me all in the same moment.
47 consecutive months of physically sharing my body without even a moment in between for myself. 47 consecutive months of offering it up to love. I wouldn't have had it any other way. I wouldn't take a minute of it back. I'd do it a million times over again if I had to. Though, I'll never have the chance. That time has stepped behind me, now. Forever. It's something to celebrate. It's something to mourn. I admit, I'm doing a little bit of both. At least, I managed my one lone BF picture I had been wanting, by which I'll remember the tight view, the heavy eyed gaze of a soothed babe, the silent connection, and the gracious giving for the taking.
Not that I could ever forget.
Posts
I love the photo. You should be so proud of your dedication to breastfeed that long, especially without support at work. I have to admit that while we have plenty of photos of me feeding the fusspot (it's a whole travel genre - Rachel and the fusspot get harrassed in front of a painting of the bare-breasted Virgin in the Vatican, fusspot nurses on a cliff in Croatia, fusspot nurses within sight of the Icelandic volcano ...) none of them are demure enough to share with anyone other than my husband (and perhaps, eventually, my daughter).
ReplyDeleteWhat a previous post about your commitment to your girls. You should really pat yourself on the back for that. I mean really, a lot of women find reason to just stop nursing (ie. work, lack of supply, etc).
ReplyDeleteIt is really encouraging to see other women who want to do that for their children.
Always love reading your posts:)
What a sweet picture.
ReplyDeleteI think you captured the feelings perfectly -- I was sad to be done breastfeeding, but happy too.
Beautiful post, Lindsey, as usual. I have loved, maybe more than anything, my breastfeeding experience. I should tally up the total number of months for us, too. My last little nurser will be a year old this month and I'm starting to get broody about it. I so badly want to hold onto nursing and babyhood...
ReplyDeleteThe photo is gorgeous. I have one or two nursing photos of Trevor, and I regret not having any of my others.
Beautifully written. I have such a love and hate relationship with breastfeeding, and yet I was so, so sad to let it go. Seeing your picture really warmed my heart.
ReplyDelete