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    Still at it

    “If a multinational company developed a product that was a nutritionally balanced and delicious food, a wonder drug that both prevented and treated disease, cost almost nothing to produce and could be delivered in quantities controlled by the consumers’ needs, the very announcement of their find would send their shares rocketing to the top of the stock market.  The scientists who developed the product would win prizes and the wealth and influence of everyone involved would increase dramatically.  Women have been producing such a miraculous substance, breastmilk, since the beginning of human existence.”

    ~Gabrielle Palmer

    I never thought that I’d be one of those moms that still nursed her children when they were old enough to carry on a conversation, yet here I am, writing about nursing my 26 month old daughter.  With Pip, I was trying to get pregnant again  around her first birthday and wasn’t having any luck, so I weaned her and conceived right away.  With Fig, however, there has been no great impetus to stop nursing her, so I still breast-feed once or twice a day before she sleeps.

    I seem to recall reading that two years of breast-feeding your child was ideal, so I was glad to make it to Fig’s second birthday, but I think we’ll call it quits this summer.  I know that she can do without it; she’s definitely eating enough at mealtimes to sustain her, and she’s perfectly happy going to straight to sleep if I’m not at home to put her to bed.  The funny thing is, I don’t mind it at all.  Perhaps it’s partly because I know that I’m not going to have another baby.  This will be the last experience I have nursing, and it is an incredibly tender time for Fig and me.  I think we’ll both miss it.

    A friend told me a story the other day about a little girl who had been weaned and was pleading with her mother to let her back onto her breast.  After her mother explained that her breastfeeding days were over, the little girl said, “Please Mom, I won’t even suck-I’ll just put my lips there!”

    The other day Fig looked up at me, mid-feed, and said, “Mama, it’s not working.”  Apparently my right breast had run dry. I wish she could have communicated that kind of information as an infant.  Wouldn’t it  have been handy to have your three-day-old say, “Excuse me Mama, I’m not getting enough milk from this breast, can we possibly try the left one?”


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