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Congratulations – we’ve hit a really, truly important milestone. You have weaned. That word sounds so cannibalistic and meaty, like we’re a mama and baby pig and you’re off to the county fair so it’s time to give you your buttermilk bath and oh wait, we’re weaning.
This feels really big, Bee. You’re no longer tethered to me for food and sustenance. When you call out for me, something has shifted. You’re not calling for food, you’re calling for your mother. For comfort and warmth and access to the makeup cabinet where I hide the mascara you love to play with.
And I swear, your cry has changed. There is less need and more want. Less “Feed me” and more “Listen to me. Hold me. Need me.”
And I will, Bee. I do.
Selfishly, I’ve loved this transition from nursing to nurturing. Whatever emotions I experienced – sadness over your fleeting babydom, hormonal shifts, feeling the weight of time passing quickly – were joyfully replaced by the new you, the new us. The independence you’re gaining, the dependence I’m releasing. I can leave you now for more than a few hours without experiencing a letdown, the tangible reminder that we’ve been apart for too long.
But here’s the funny thing: there’s no physical letdown, but oh, there’s an emotional one. I don’t need a milk supply to remind me that we belong together.
And here’s what I want you to remember. I’m no longer your food source, my dear little one. But I promise to be your everything else. Your comfort and joy and strength and faith and love. I promise to be your mother, forever and always.