The Last Drop of Milk: The End of My Breastfeeding Journey

As I come to the close of the chapter in which I’ve entitled “my body doesn’t belong to me” – I can’t help but feel a little sad. Not tears-streaming-down-my-face sad, but more like a tug-at-my-heartstrings sad. You see, I have spent the last 6 years of my life either pregnant or breastfeeding my three kids, and that chapter is officially closed now.

As a society, we often talk about the start of breastfeeding and the pain it causes and how hard it is, but rarely do we talk about the end, and the heartache it causes for some {definitely not all} women, too. For me personally, these last drops of milk signify the end of my childbearing years and time having squishy newborns fill our home. Though I know in my heart I am done, it still stings just a bit.

I recently weaned Miles at 17 months…The timing was just right and he adapted easily. Maybe too easily because I am the one here nostalgic already — not him. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel ready to be done with this phase, so I am thankful in a way I made this spur-of-the-moment decision. I am confident I will always look back on these years as some of my favorites, despite how unbelievably hard they have been.

It was never a question as to whether or not I would choose to breastfeed when I had children. The answer was always YES. Lucky for me, I had an amazing support system. I would’ve undoubtedly failed without them beside me every step of the way.

The first day home with my little guy. His big sister was eager to feed her baby too!

During my years of breastfeeding, I took conference calls, wrote hundreds of blog posts and client content, scheduled doctor appointments, meal planned, potty trained my girls, complained to other sleep-deprived mamas awake during ungodly hours, and at times, even cried, especially during those first 6 weeks of sheer exhaustion. All with a baby happily plopped down on my lap. No big deal.

With that said, despite my multi-tasking, I still found the time to admire perfect little sleepy faces, wrist chunks and chubby hands, and even the occasional milk-drunk smile. Those special moments are the ones that carried me through the initial pain, the bleeding nipples, the engorged ducts, and mastitis.

Breastfeeding each of my babies was a unique experience, and believe me when I say, it was hard every.single.time. The difference was, with each child, my mentality changed. I started to see that really it’s just easier in many ways to nurse a baby – and many times I could see where it helped when my babies had a cold, fell and hurt themselves while learning to walk, or teethed — nursing was always there to provide that instant comfort. To have that power as a mother? There’s nothing quite like it.

Some may think that ending breastfeeding for good would make me feel free, and in a way, it does – now we can go on a two-night stay somewhere as a couple, I can drink copious amounts of alcohol, take medications without pause and even whiten my teeth. Honestly though, I never looked at growing or feeding my baby as a chore – in fact, it proved to be quite the opposite for me.

I’m a believer God gave women breasts so they have the opportunity to sit down to feed – something I never can do {guilt-free} with three kids around. Nursing was my ME time. What’s a tired mama to do now that she doesn’t have the “I’m feeding the baby, so leave me alone” excuse? What happens when the last drop of milk falls? Do I even know how to function without a baby inside me, or on me?

Of course I will be fine. And so grateful to have experienced these insane years. For that reason, I will never stop advocating for nursing mothers. It’s hard to not be passionate about something you have spent so much time doing.

Regardless with how you choose to feed your child, closing any sweet chapter in our children’s lives is hard. Sometimes gut-wrenchingly so. Motherhood is just plain hard, and I know I have so many chapters ahead to close with a heavy heart. We raise our babies up, only to let them go — piece by piece, until they’re their own little person.

Now we’re on to the next chapter. No more milk. Now, it’s on to chicken nuggets and sticky hand holding; library story time, and a bedtime routine that never seems to end. You can bet I’ll be treasuring every moment as best I can, until that last toddler-sized cuddle ends, and a new, wonderful chapter begins.