In just 4 weeks you will be a bonafide toddler. I have surrendered much of your babyhood with the big move, accepting that you no longer require nourishment from my breast and you no longer wish to be constrained by anything that keeps you from moving at your own free will, be it my arms, the straps of your high chair, or the crib. You want to go go go, see it all, feel your strength and stand up tall.
You did beautifully with the transition from Highland Park to New Providence. I think that slowly seeing your toys and your belongings beginning to fill the new house over the past month or so helped a lot by the time moving day arrived. You learned the layout of the new place, the smells and textures of each new room. You and Oscar are thriving here and I am so proud. You both have space to stretch and many nooks and crannies yet to explore. I love that you have a yard with a fence and that you're both adjusting well to spending 50% of your day outside. That's a big change!
I can honestly say that it's starting to feel like home as we unpack and hang artwork and curtains and see our history as a family unfurl out of brown boxes. It's tiring work but it's necessary and it won't magically happen on its own. You like to "help" with your fascination of taking out; putting in, putting in, taking out. You also like to climb every mountain of cardboard in sight. How thrilling to discover the cave of wonders in the basement as yet uncharted and uninventoried!
For all of the exciting beginnings -- you on the verge of speaking and walking -- I must pause to admit what a difficult time I've had ending the breastfeeding chapter of babyhood. I knew weaning would be harder for me than it would be for you and that has indeed been the case. It's not the temporary physical discomfort so much as its the ending of what only we have shared and will never partake in again. All mothers must feel this way, whether they've breastfed for two weeks or two years. It means, at least in that capacity, that you no longer need me for fuel. Our bodies are further physically separated. It started at birth with the severing of the umbilical cord and now the circle is complete.
Last night, I believe I fed you from my breast for the last time. I will cherish the memory always of your perfect baby head with your downy baby hair, eyes closed in peaceful dream feeding, nestled against my bosom. It was 1:15 in the morning on your 11 month birthday and you took a few sips and fell asleep. All done. You are growing every single day and becoming more independent and I couldn't be happier. Sure, I will cry a bit thanks to the hormone shift, but there's no sense dwelling on it. It's a milestone to be celebrated. My body nourished you for almost a full year. I am confident that you will continue to thrive on formula and milk and embrace a variety of big girl foods, my delicate grazer.
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UPDATE
We have a walker! As of Sunday afternoon, you took two tottering steps in the grass with six witnesses there to cheer you on. You were holding out for a large audience, I guess, and you did beautifully. Mazel tov, kid!
