I can’t help myself as I start to feel that familiar tug at my heart, the hollow feeling in my stomach and I slowly begin to grasp for air as my chest tightens. I reason with myself and try to push the logic down my body and hope it reaches my heart.
For the last time today I pumped at 10:30am. Tomorrow I’ll begin to wean Taylor from her daytime nursing and begin to replace the daytime nursing with other dairy substitutes while teaching Tay to drink her milk from a sippy cup (it will still be breastmilk as I have a pretty big supply built up). I try to remind myself that I’ve given this decision a lot of thought and planned the timing to fit what was right for me and what was right for my family. But all my heart hears is “for the last time…”
For the last time today I deleted the “hold” that’s been on my calendar for a year. My head reminds me that I am excited to gain the 20 minutes back in my day. My head rejoices at the possibilities of getting out the door quicker with the kiddies to do something fun and not having to find ways to preoccupy the pre-schooler while I nurse the baby on the go. But all my heart hears is “this is the last time.”
We are 100% confident with our decision that Taylor is our last baby and I am having zero regrets or feelings of incomplete. This isn’t that. In fact, I think it is my confidence that this is going to be the last that’s having such a strong hold on my heart strings.
Next week Taylor turns 1.
Just typing those words brings a new strength of tightness around my chest and I begin the game of trying to take deep breaths while my body panics for air.
Tomorrow I will forget all about this and we will be on to the next milestone. There will be new opportunities and Taylor will move on quicker than I.