transition transmission

ironically, on the eve of national breast-feeding week, my son decided he was no longer interested in nursing. as sudden as anything could be it was just over- no signals, no warning, no hesitancy or disinterest previously communicated, no prep, no nothing.  just, done.  and, though the breastfeeding lifestyle was at times suffocating in its exclusive responsibility, it was also one my most favorite mothering opportunities for which i have always been grateful. the sudden termination of my role of provider, in this capacity anyhow, brought with it a surge of sadness.

my husband, as gracious and supportive as ever, offered to put our son to sleep and i kissed my moo’s maturing face and escaped with my broken heart. it wasn’t but seconds after i left his room that i was overcome with sobs… i couldn’t believe that our physical union was officially over. i couldn’t believe he was now, in full, apart from me and of his own self in the world.

it took awhile for my body to realise what had occurred and it wasn’t until hours after he was asleep that, confused, i ached in pain. it  brings my mind ease knowing that my body was surprised too and even that it remains conflicted, as my body, like my mind, continues to process his absence.  though my heart is a bit better off, the body remembers and the physical aches have not yet resolved. at many moments in the day, my body reminds me that it is still operational and, as if anticipating him, swells.  my biology misses him (CT).

i can rationalize all that is normal, good, and healthy about his decision. i can celebrate that my partner can now take part in the ever-special-putting-the-child-to-sleep-routine and share that sleepy bliss love exchange.  i can make space for the awareness that my moo and i are both fortunate that this was led by him as opposed to something i would have had to impose on him, at one time or another. i can be wowed by his mental, emotional, and physical developmental gains. i can be impressed with his confidence and agency.  i can laugh knowing that the only surprise is that i was surprised. i mean, i have had my breath taken away on more than one occasion lately by what a little man he is becoming and how much intention, purpose, and personhood seems to be behind all of his actions. i can trust that he is doing what he needs to do to become who he is going to be. one day soon i know my body will catch up.

so, overall, the ache is improving but, even now, writing this, both my mind and body ache for the intimacy that we shared and it remains hard knowing that now, our physical connection will become more and more distant and less and less important in either of our lives. the silly grief filled parts of me can’t help but feel some hyper sensitive curiosity about what this means now about me as his mother and of our relationship. you know, in what ways we will become new versions of ourselves?  i also can’t help but ask myself if i somehow brought this on by wishing for a bit of space, or if the universe (?) caught up with my efforts to assist my moo in preparation for my return to work, or if some all knowing breastfeeding rule maker (!) noticed that i’d packed away all of my nursing bras, tanks, and clothes and decided that it was clearly time.  it is most likely, thankfully, some reality based combination of moo himself perceiving a shift in me, in us, as i gradually engaged in some stepping back, along with some elements of his own readiness to individuate. it is quite possible that his perfect growing self just grew into his own and there was no longer enough space for my body in his body’s efforts to explore. whatever led us here though, and however we arrived here, soon there will be no going back.

i keep hearing the voice of a dear mama friend and can’t help but see her in my now pained face when she shared that her daughter had decided to stop and commented: “i didn’t know it was going to be the last time”. i can so appreciate her tears now, in a way that i couldn’t fully before, and, though i too didn’t know our last time was upon us, i was fortunately able to capture the way he looked and felt in that last exchange…

like he clearly is, i know that i am maturing too. i can feel the next journey approaching and i trust that as he begins anew, i do too. we begin again…

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3 Comments to “transition transmission”

  1. Just know your heart strings will always bind you. What a special gift you shared.
    xo

  2. Beautiful love ….. although the transition was such a surprise and unexpected, you’re still his source of life …. nothing will ever change that.

  3. Hi beautiful. That was really lovely writing. You capture the bittersweet as well as you feel it – deeply, poignantly.
    Is your heart catching up with your rational head?
    xoS

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