Beau bye-bye

Hortense breastfeeding Paul - Cezanne

Today a landmark shift happened in the lives of Ben, A and our family in general. Ben and his Mummy shared their last breastfeeding moment snuggled together in bed this morning, Ben in his “wee-oo” (firetruck) pajamas and A bleary eyed from a later night getting ready for her first big trip away from him. It was tender and warm and sweet. And I am pretty sure I heard him say, "tank oo Mummy". We have called nursing “beau-beau” as a more discreet form of “boob” to hear across a busy restaurant, and it means beautiful or nice in French. Nursing took some getting used to for both parties when Ben was an infant, but both have enjoyed the relationship and bonding since. Why stop now? He just turned two, we anticipate our next son’s arrival in 4.5 weeks, A is away for five days, and it just seemed like it was time. A also had a rough go on their England trip where nursing was the only thing that would get him to sleep, and didn't always work, and was accompanied by pinching, patting and smacking on his part. It’s been much better since then but he is also less interested, more willing to move on when A has said “no beau-beau right now”, is happy with his cup of almond milk and seems ready enough for this big shift. We've also been weaning slowing, reducing feeds over the last month or so.

But it is bittersweet.

My heart aches for A, since it has meant so much to her to be his food and comfort these two years. That sweet little hand will no longer rub her arm incessantly. Nor will Ben say “udder side pease!” again. He will still have morning snuggles with moms, and lots and lots and lots of hugs and books of course. But I honor this passage for them both, Ben stepping out of “baby” into “boy” and A from “nursing mother” into, well, that’s the rub! We are pretty sure this morning was her last time nursing, though nothing is ever 100%. Who is she now? “Co-parent”, one of two moms who can equally tend to Ben’s needs? I suspect those two will always have a special bond though, no matter what is next on the adventure road of our family. Her hug will always be just a little more comforting…

A, my love, thank you for being there for him all this time in that special way, especially in the middle of the dark nights, in the hospital waiting rooms, on planes, or when it’s hurt or been hard. Thank you for nurturing our precious boy’s sense of connection and self, of safety and unity. Thank you for being the “you are what you eat” for him, your cells, your love, you immunity, your beauty filling him up. He is a lucky boy. 

E