Journal Entry :: 23/7/18
"This morning was my last breastfeed with Ry. Dan brought her into the bedroom and she was wearing my favourite blue leopard Bonds jumpsuit. We cuddled up while she drank, like every other morning for the past 17 months.
I was so quiet and still, savouring the moment and trying to remember every little thing, knowing it would be our last feed together:
The way she felt.
The cute little noise she makes when she opens her mouth to latch.
Her sweet suckling sounds.
What she smelled like.
The pressure from both her feet pressing through her bunny sleeping bag into my thighs.
Dan took a photo of us, but I haven't seen it yet. Tomorrow will be a really rough day, and I'm dreading it so much. I have no idea what to expect or how she, or I, will cope. Sometimes babies chose when to stop on their own. I had a feeling that wouldn't be the case, despite the fact that's what I did to my mum when I was 10 months old. In some circumstances mums are unable to feed, opt not to, or you might have to stop feeding when you aren't ready, like me.
I think I cherished breastfeeding enough though. You have to wonder in times like these if you did, and I really think I did. My sweetest, fondest memories were breastfeeding her after our move to Brisbane when she was still only a few months old. Each morning Dan would bring her into our bed and she would fall back asleep on my breast and we would cuddle, wrapped up around each other in a sleepy haze.
Being a mum to this little girl changed my life in so many magical ways. I hope we have another baby because I'd love to relive those moments, and I take none of them for granted."
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