Wednesday 8 May 2013

Of milk and memories: how my breastfeeding story ends

I knew this time would come eventually. I can't remember when I last fed my baby. It might have been on Friday morning, or last Tuesday. It would have been first thing in the morning, and I would have gone into her room, having heard her calling brightly 'Mummy-Daddy! Mummy-Daddy!' from her cot. I would have gathered her up, warm and sleepy in her pyjamas, still clutching her comfort blanket, and carried her through to my bedroom. She might have said, 'My want my milks', and I would have propped up my pillow, and sat back in bed, and she would have dropped her blanket and draped herself across my lap. She might have said 'That one first, Mummy, then that one [pointing].' She might have paused mid-feed to look up at me and say 'Yummy, yummy, in my tummy rummy!' with a wide grin. Then she might have said, 'All done now, mummy. Can my have some weetabix?' And wriggled down from the bed, and run to the door, turning back to say, impatiently, 'Come ON, mummy!'

My daughter Ada, my third and very likely last baby, is thirty months old and just about weaned (I think). The morning feeds have been becoming less frequent as the months pass, and they've been short (though very sweet). And this week it feels as though the end is nigh; this morning she said 'Milks?' when I got her up and I said 'Ok', but she shook her head, and squirmed to get down, and spotted her brother through the banisters, and went off to play instead.
Ada's first feed, November 2010

I find myself with mixed emotions: pride when I see how my daughter is growing up and becoming her own person, more separate from me; wistfulness when I recall her babyhood and realise how quickly it has passed; and a gentle sadness that my own experience of breastfeeding, which has brought me so much, in all aspects of my life, is coming to an end. When I wrote up my breastfeeding experiences for my collection of positive breastfeeding stories, Breastfeeding: stories to inspire and inform (published when Ada was eighteen months old), I concluded: 'It seems strange to think that I might be approaching the end of breastfeeding when it has been so central to our family life over the last few years. There's no doubt I will look back on it as one of my most precious experiences of motherhood.' I feel very lucky to have had almost another year of breastfeeding since I wrote those words, and that Ada has had such a gradual, gentle weaning. It will be fascinating to see whether, as she gets older, she will remember breastfeeding. A few weeks ago, my older daughter, aged six, came into the bedroom in the early morning while I was feeding Ada. 'Mummy!' she exclaimed in shock as she looked at us, 'I'd completely forgotten that you breastfeed Ada! How could I have forgotten that?' We all laughed, but I was struck by how, when we don't have constant reminders, even things that were once a completely integral part of the family 'furniture' can slip into memory.

Ada's favourite book at the moment is The Paper Dolls by Julia Donaldson, illustrated by Rebecca Cobb. We currently read it every single night. It's a beautiful book and the part that brings a lump to my throat, even on the umpteenth reading, is the part where, after the paper dolls have been snipped into pieces by a little boy with scissors, they continue to sing their song:..

'And the pieces all joined together,
and the paper dolls flew... 
...into the little girl's memory
where they found white mice and fireworks,
and a starfish soap,
and a kind granny,
and the butterfly hairslide,
and more and more lovely things
each year.'

I'm hoping that buried in the corners of my children's minds, along with all the other lovely things, there are some memories of breastfeeding that will be there all their lives. As for me, it's not so much a corner of my mind as an overflowing treasure chest.

And in some ways it's definitely not the end of the story: with publishing, writing, peer supporting and campaigning, I think I'll be busy with breastfeeding for a long while yet.


12 comments:

  1. This is so beautiful and you put into words all my feelings when my little one self weaned a few months ago. I scoured the web for support with MY emotions as my carefree son was dancing around me as happy as could be. Those nursing years just went to quickly and I now want to help others share the joy of breastfeeding.

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    1. Thanks so much for your comment Holly, and glad you can relate to the feelings I discuss here (I'm sure many of us experience them!). Totally agree that the nursing years are over all too soon.

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  2. Maybe they won't remember feeding, but they will remember a feeling of warmth security and love when you hold them tight to your chest, and a familiar smell of their mummy.
    my daughter is 8 and has watched me feeding her baby brother until he was one, I am proud that she knows where baby's milk comes from.
    I was however, very sad when Jackson decided he didn't want boob anymore, no more morning snuggles :( ... but 5months on and I still hav milk ... what's that all about?!!
    S x

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    1. Thanks for your comment and those kind words - and you're right, I'm sure they will remember the closeness. And yes, it is sad when they don't want it any more - but like all things it's the beginning of a new chapter too. As for still having milk after five months, bodies and boobs are just amazing :)

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  3. Just lovely. I am imagining myself forward to this point, and it gets me in the stomach even now, with my boy not quite 2, and a sincere hope that he won't be the last.
    As Anonymous says, they must remember the feeling, and carry it with them through their lives, even if they don't recall the practical details. How can they forget, given how much it changes us?
    Thank you for sharing.

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    1. Thank you for commenting! I love the idea that my children will always 'know' about breastfeeding, just like I knew that my mother breastfed me and my brother, and my grandmothers breastfed all their children; it's part of their heritage now :)

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  4. My little girl has been feeding for almost a year and I don't even wanna think about a time when she isn't. I'm currently pregnant with my second and it worries me she might self wean and our nursing days will be over sooner than I'd like.

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    1. Congratulations on your pregnancy, and lovely to hear that you're still feeding the first - hope you have some lovely tandem feeding experiences :)Thank you for commenting.

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  5. As little girls my daughters would hold their baby dolls to their breast and "nurse" them as I nursed their baby brother. I am so proud to say that they have both breastfed all of their babies and are passing on this beautiful gift to the next generation.
    I treasure my days and nights of snuggling, nursing and sleeping, with my babies. Some of my sweetest memories in life are of those times.

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    1. Oh yes, you've reminded me that all my three have done this! And when my older children would hear the baby cry, they would call out to me 'Mummy, give her some milk!' Thanks for sharing your own treasured memories.

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  6. I can tell that my 11 month old daughter wants to nurse less and less and it has made me deeply sad. I cry as I read your post, yet it brings me great comfort to know that like birth, breastfeeding connects us. Mothers across space and time share these feelings. Thank you.

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