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I’ve seen friends face numerous challenges, both physical and emotional, during their breastfeeding journeys, so I recognize that my experience is not universal. For me, however, breastfeeding came quite naturally. This isn’t a boast; I often feel like a hot mess in various aspects of my life. But in this realm, I truly thrived. My once-flat chest, which I had long cursed while watching others flaunt their curves, transformed into my greatest asset. Instead of feeling insecure, I became bold. I refused to hide away to make others comfortable; I nursed confidently in public—at restaurants, on picnics, while wearing bridesmaid dresses, and even on the sidelines of basketball games. Sometimes, people didn’t even notice what I was doing.
The connection I forged with my little one during that first year—through endless cluster feeds and late-night soothing sessions—is something I will forever cherish. It was a mix of exhausting and rewarding, draining yet invigorating. The on-demand nature of nursing somehow calmed my anxious mind. As an introvert, having the built-in excuse to stay close to my baby for long periods was something I mostly relished. Being the only one who could soothe and nourish this tiny human felt empowering.
As I prepared to nurse my fourth and final baby for the last time, I felt a heaviness in my chest. Since her birth, I had imagined this moment, even fantasizing about nursing her into her toddler years, unable to let go. But as she approached thirteen months, I realized it was time. She was becoming more distracted and, yes, biting—often.
One chilly night, after zipping her into her soft pink sleep sack, we settled into the rocker in her dimly lit room. As I cradled her head in my arm and laid her on my lap, a wave of emotion washed over me. I felt heartbroken knowing I would never experience this again. I was deeply saddened to bid farewell to this remarkable chapter of my life. And I cried—big, ugly tears that came from the gut. After I finished, a sense of calm enveloped me.
Looking down into her blue eyes, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I was thankful for my stretched belly that brought these children into the world and my peculiar nipples that nourished them. I appreciated being home with them, having the privilege to feed them whenever they needed. My nursing journey is a testament to the incredible privileges some of us have.
So today, instead of wallowing in sadness about this phase ending, I choose to celebrate the empowerment and joy it brought me. It’s rare in life to feel equipped with superpowers, but nursing was that for me. I will carry that strength and power throughout my motherhood journey, reminding myself that I am strong and capable—saggy-boobs and all—and I wouldn’t change a thing.
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In summary, while the end of a breastfeeding chapter can be bittersweet, it is essential to reflect on the empowerment and connections formed during that time. Nursing was a superpower for many, and the memories made will last a lifetime.