If I had known it was going to be the last time that I felt your warm body pressed up against mine as we breastfed, I would have taken it more slowly, and truly cherished the moment.

If I had known it was going to be the last time you would look at me with your big brown eyes and uttered the words “boobie Mummy?”, I would have kissed your soft cheeks before taking you in my arms and holding you close, trying to remember what your voice sounded like as you asked.

If I had known it was going to be the last time I was able to soothe your cries and bring you such comfort by the simple act of breastfeeding, I would have taken a moment to thank my body for allowing me to do this.

If I had known it was going to be the last time you would fall asleep on my chest, lulled to a deep sleep by my milk, I would have held onto you for a bit longer, just watching the rise and fall of your chest.

If I had known it was going to be the last time that I was able to calm you down from the throes of your emotions, so big in your small body, by just offering you the comfort of breastfeeding, I would not have taken for granted this incredible power.

I I had known it was going to be the last time that we sat in the darkness in our favourite chair, rocking slowly back and forth, the outside world  just melting away, I would have taken a moment to remember this feeling of complete calm and utter connectiveness between us.

Yet even though I freely let the tears fall down my cheeks, and I am overcome with sadness and loss as I reflect on our breastfeeding journey, I will also take this moment to feel joy from our experience.

Because from the moment you came into this world, when the midwife lay you into my arms mere moments after I pushed you from my body, I have been profoundly grateful for my ability to breastfeed you.

I have been taken aback by the overwhelming feeling of connection between us, the bond that has grown so strong between mother and child by the simple act of feeding. I never knew it would be like this. I never knew how much love would flow between us and the fierce protectiveness I have felt for you in sustaining breastfeeding into your toddler years.

As you grow older and our breastfeeding journey ends, as the new life in my belly grows stronger, a life that will soon also rely on me for nourishment, I take a moment to say thank you to my body for what it has allowed me to do. I understand that you no longer need me in this way anymore. And that is okay. I will be there for you in a million other ways instead.

It may be the last time I breastfeed you. But I will take these beautiful moments we have shared through breastfeeding, and I will never forget them. They will be imprinted on my memory for the rest of my life. And I will always remember what it felt like to feel your soft body pressed against my chest and and the way your hair felt against my touch as I stroked your head. These moments have changed me forever.

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Love Sally

P.S. If you have enjoyed reading this, you may like to read http://psitsamumthing.com/how-pregnancy-feels-after-a-miscarriage/

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