Tonight I pulled the last bag of breast milk from the freezer, marking the official end to a year of nursing.
I haven’t breastfed my son in almost a month, but I was lucky enough to have over 200 oz of milk stored away to keep feeding him after his first birthday. Tomorrow he will have his last sip of it.
I think he’s ok with it. He’s already getting mostly whole milk in his bottles. I just can’t believe it’s over. All of that hard work, finished. I nursed him and pumped for what seemed like forever. I’ve never worked harder at anything in my life, and I only spilled a few ounces!
I kept going after after all of the clogged ducts. While working full time. All the bags and cleaning parts and storage guidelines. I made it through the distracted phase, where he was too curious to settle in for too long. Kept going after all of the “you’re still breast feeding?!” judgy questioning. A year really isn’t that long. I’m not sure why it was such a big deal to some people. Then again, most of it came from women who’d never done it before.
It was the most rewarding experience. I got to feed my baby and give him the best shot at a healthy life. He thrived. He grew. He’s still growing. And I played a big part in that. Now it’s over.
All we’re left with now is an empty freezer. We bought an extra one just for all the milk. I’m not sure what we’ll do with it now. It literally only had milk in it.
While I won’t miss leaky boobs, engorgement, or constant worry, I will miss the quiet moments nursing my son.
A part of me feels like I’m not sure what to do now that he doesn’t “need” me anymore. Of course he still does. It’s just weird not having him depend on me quite so much.
So that’s it. The end of my breast feeding career! For now anyway.