A thank you to my son

You had me nervous before you ever came out.

You see, I didn't prepare and learn about all the issues of nursing a child before I had your brother. I thought it would be easy and simple. After all, women had been feeding their babies this way since the beginning of time. But your brother came out hungry, and we could never make it all work. Which broke my heart a little. So when I found out about you, I thought to myself that I had a second chance. But would I be able to pull it off? Make that would WE be able to pull it off?

Well, we began our journey really well. You were so laid back about everything, and didn't seem to mind that your mother is a complete control freak. Something that goes against the nature of nursing. But you were patient with me. You were probably amused by my late night phone calls to my friend Sue, who I consider the equivalent of a sponsor to an AA member - only my drug was control. Every time I spoke with her, she had to patiently remind me that you were the one who should be running the show, not me.

We got into a real rhythm by about your fourth month, and I was finally able to get it. THIS is why women breast feed. It felt like an extension of the miracle of pregnancy and birth. Not only could I grow you inside of me, but I also had this ability to feed and nourish you, almost like the umbilical cord became magically attached again every time you nursed. I was nervous at first about nursing you away from home. But we learned together to do it. No need to cart around bottles, or formula, or anything. We just needed you, and me. And even though you were too big to ever feed out in public (no blanket could keep you covered up), as long as I could find a bathroom stall or empty room, we could be comfortable. Anytime you needed it, anywhere we happened to be, I could give you food.

Early on I read a book or watched TV while you ate at home, but sometime around your sixth month I decided to only pay attention to you. I sang songs to you, which you really seemed to like. I stroked your downy, fuzzy head which I know you loved, and still do. But the things you gave to me were so much bigger than anything I gave to you. I felt a connection to all the other women who came before me and did this. I felt in touch with the rhythms of the earth. I felt a relief from just letting go. But I mostly felt really, really peaceful. No matter how crazy our day had been going, or how frantic you seemed if you woke up at night, all it took was five minutes to get us both so relaxed we could go to sleep.

We had some rough spots here and there. You started getting your teeth in, and had to learn that a biting boy ends up a hungry boy. OUCH! But it only took two interruptions for you to figure that out. You are so big that we had to try a couple of different places where we could both be comfortable, ending up on an ottoman that we stuck in the middle of your room. That became such an important piece of furniture, and even though it is back in its place in the living room I will never sit on it without feeling the weight of you in my arms, remembering the sight of your sweet profile and the feel of your little hands on my face.

I find myself looking at you doing different things around the house, playing or watching TV, and I can feel my milk start to come in. I have an urge to grab you and let you eat, and start it all up again. Because even though you have been ready for this for weeks, I am still not ready, and I don't believe I would ever have been truly ready. Because when we were together, doing our thing, my addiction to control had finally given way to an addiction to peace. And because I know I will never do any of these miraculous things again. This ending brings an ending to the magic of having a baby.

But see, here's where you have come through for me again. Bedtime, which could have been hard for me to get through, has turned into a special, fun time each night. After I came up with the idea of singing one song with you before rocking and singing you to sleep, you decided to start playing a new game. You point to different squares on the wonderful quilt that Susan made for you, and want me to tell what it is, and sing a song about it. And hearing your funny babble, seeing your little thumb and index finger pressed together pointing, and knowing how happy you are has made it so easy for me to move on. Instead of the wistful sadness I was sure I would feel each night, I find myself looking forward to bedtime now just as much as before. And I realize, every night, watching you and holding you, that not only did we pull it off, but we did a fantastic job. We should both be so very, very proud.