I was planning to write some amazingly poignant post about breastfeeding and how that part of Harper's life is coming to an end, but I've got a cold thing and can't write good. I don't want to sound like some hippie who wants to b'feed her kid until he's at university, but it really has turned out to be an ace experience.
I hated it at first. It 'sucked'. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. It seemed like if you didn't have your body facing the north pole at the right angle with the wind blowing in a semi anti clockwise direction, you weren't doing it right.
But then when H was about three months old he turned his head and looked up with an expression of complete and utter awe that his favourite thing in the world came from me. He turned on one of those gummy heart-melt smiles, and I resolved that I would breastfeed till he was 21. From then on, it got easier and easier. I have breastfed on planes, in the back of a wedding car, on the Interislander ferry, in a pub, in a movie, and many other places besides. I'm not sad that we're down to only three feeds a day - I've ditched the worn out maternity bras I've been wearing 24/7 for 11 months, and can leave Harper with his dad or other non lactating person for hours and hours and not worry about him starving. But I am sad that soon perhaps Harper will call it quits on the whole thing, and that our special time together (usually with him checking out my teeth or pulling at my necklace) will be over. It's been a sweet and lovely time.