The last time...

This blog has been the record of so many firsts for Kieran: first bottle, first tooth, first bite of "solid" food, first step, first birthday... so many exciting and wonderful first moments in the life of a child. But what about the equally precious last moments: last bottle, last baby food, last bath in the baby tub, last day as a one-year-old? These seem to pass us by without so much as a second glance because we are so busy celebrating the new first that typically follows an end. I didn't want this last moment in Kieran's life to go by without noting it's passing in our blog.

Last Wednesday appears to be the last time I will nurse my son because Kieran has decided he is done- ready or not mama. We have been down to one feeding (more or less) for the past month- the morning nursing has been the last precious time when Kieran would lie still, curl up next to me in bed and just be. I have to admit I am going to sorely miss this five or ten minutes of peace and love because although he is still a lover of hugs, kisses and holding hands, he is never in my arms for long before he's running off to his next adventure.

In the past Kieran would wake up in the morning and cry or call my name and I would go to him and he would lead me back to the bedroom to lie down and nurse. The last morning, he slept in and so I got myself and everything else ready before finally rousing my little man. This time I carried him to our bedroom as he was still dazed with sleep. I had already made the bed and so we sat in the glider instead to nurse. How appropriate that the last place we would share this precious moment was in the chair we had nursed in so many days and nights over the past two years. Although I didn't know this would be the last time, I do remember it very clearly. I remember the weight of his little body, limp and totally at ease in my arms and I remember thinking how big he had grown and that his legs now fell over my lap and dangled down instead of fitting snuggly in my arms like they had as an infant. I remember his soft little warm hands at my breast and on my own hands. I remember laying my head back and rocking gently in the early light of the morning and being so at ease and so in love.

The next morning, I peeked in at Kieran to find him still asleep and so I left the door cracked and went to get ready. As I was putting on my mascara he toddled in to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, pink cheeked and wild blond hair. He took my hand and I went, expecting to be led to the bed. Instead, he walked right past that little haven and marched me straight into the living room, demanding trains and wa-wa. I was shocked, this was the first time he had ever shown no interest in nursing, no little grunty-cough or tugs at my shirt- it was if he had grown into a little boy over night and bid such infantile things good bye as he slept. I just went with it, marveling at it all day. The following morning, he awoke crying and I was sure it would be a struggle to distract him from nursing and that I would probably give in, but again he surprised me. He did half-heartily make his nursing gestures but when I suggested we go watch trains and eat breakfast, he jumped at the offer and was running down the hallway in front of me in a flash. And so weaning began in earnest.

It has been over a week since Kieran last nursed and he has seemed completely at ease with the transition and I am so proud of him and in awe of how he was just "ready". I, on the other hand, was perhaps not 100% there yet, but I have known the time was coming for quite a while now. I am surprised at how physically uncomfortable I have been and how long the "drying up" is taking, but I think I am finally on the downhill slide.

Kieran isn't a baby anymore, but he will always be my baby, no matter how many firsts and lasts come and go in his amazing life.