If I'd known it was going to be the last time...

Nursing. I know. He's 15 months old and doesn't really need it anymore. When he turned a year old, I thought I would wean him and we'd be done by 13 and a half months. That was plenty. Come his 13 month birthday, I thought "14 months is okay. My SIL gave her little boy a bottle until he was almost 14 months." At 14 months I was convinced I could end it before he was 15 months old. At 15 months, I decided it was stupid to quit nursing him just once a day when it is so good for him and we are headed into cold and flu season. I decided to wait until January to give it up completely. I should be ready by then.

At 15 months, one week and two days old, my dear boy, whom I want to nurse, has refused to do it. It breaks my heart to think that it could really be over. If I had only known that it would be the last time he nursed, I would have enjoyed it more. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but I would have taken just a little more care about looking at his sweet face so serene and closer than he ever lets me be when he's playing. I'd have enjoyed him relaxed in my arms just a little more. I'd have enjoyed his long eyelashes. His eyebrows so blond they are almost non-existent except for the little muscles that make them one of the most expressive features on his face.

I thought it was hard when he was new and needed me constantly. There were times I longed for the day he would be more independant. Motherhood is so full of heartbreak. It is so full of joy - there are so many things to celebrate and glory in as a child grows and learns new things and what a joy to know that you and your spouse have been a big part of that. But every single thing they learn is tinged with a little sadness for a mother. You want them to flourish like they should, but if only you could keep them close to you forever, you would give just about anything.