On Monday morning, my Facebook account lit on fire with responses to a status update from a friend who posted a link to a section of the Globe and Mail on Monday (http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/family-and-relationships/why-arent-more-women-breastfeeding/article1636178/) and announced to all that the whole breastfeeding/formula feeding "choice" debate would be the next big feminist issue (you remember what that is...right??).
While the Globe and Mail seemed to suggest that there was some sort of war going on between women who were constantly judging each other's choices in this regard, I saw nothing but support on Facebook by enlightened women about the complexity involved with choices in this matter. So awesome.
This is not to say that judgment doesn't happen. I've experienced it as someone who chose to nurse and definitely saw it for my friends who chose not or were unable to nurse. In any event, whatever, people, at the end of the day, it's none of your business what your friend decides to do or not to do. But you totally get that and that's why I like you.
But really that's not what this post is about.
This is about me getting back into the swing of things career-wise and coming to the end of my own nursing journey.
I remember very distinctly driving home with my hubby after the birthing class in which they talked about nursing. I was like in total denial. Like total. I remember the nurse telling us that at the beginning, you could be nursing upwards 8-hours a day. It was such an abstract concept to me that I didn't even process it.
But dude, it's totally true. 8 HOURS A DAY.
And I did it.
And guess what, I totally loved it.
Well, not all of the time. Like not after 6 months and getting up like seriously every 2 hours for like 2 months after that. And like not at times where Archer really wanted to do it in the most awkward of places (you've nursed in the dressing room of a Joe Fresh, haven't you? what about in the middle of a rally at Queen's Park? in the business section on an airplane? or on a beach in Honolulu?).
But yesterday when I finally announced to my hubby and my mom that I was done nursing (after weeks of weaning), I shed a little tear. Ok a big tear. And lots of them.
What's this all about? Well, I think it is the end of an era. And my mom, God bless her, although extremely empathetic and supportive also gently advised that this may or may not be the first time I will be melancholy about this little dude becoming not so little (flash forward to 1st day of school, first day at summer camp, first date, moving out...OH MA GAWD I CAN'T BARE TO THINK OF IT ALL).
And now, btw, I totally understand why people have more than one baby.
Anyway, regardless of the choice you made re: nursing which I completely get and support, we all should treasure the here and now with our little dudes and dude-ettes (heck with all the peeps we love in our lives). It is trite to say it goes by so fast and even when things seem super hard, if you keep mind of the bigger picture and all the good love stuff floating around you, it's all good right?
Peace out.
My most vivid memory of the day Marika was born? At night, when it was just the two of us and that little face looked up at me. I hadn't a clue what I was doing or if I was doing it right, but that moment was a connection for the two of us. And yes, 18 years later, she left home for university. I cried for a week. She's been away from home for two years now and each time she leaves is hard, but the tears are momentary because I know that's what she is supposed to do and that I've had a part in helping her become who she is today. Courage Christina! As the song says, "it only hurts for a little while".....
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