Nursing my toddler

Nate's Aunt Becky once mentioned a class she taught called "Nursing Babies With Teeth and Shoes." I think that perfectly describes what it feels like to nurse a toddler.

Nursing Eden has been, hands-down, one of the best things I have ever done in my life. Get my master's degree, buy a house, nurse my baby into toddler-hood....these are all things I'm proud of.

It's not to say that nursing a toddler isn't hard at times. I was with a group of very dear friends this past weekend and it came up that I was still nursing. There was a length of silence, and then someone asked, "So, how long are you going to nurse?" To which I just said, "Until she doesn't want to any more." They also wanted to know how many times a day I nursed. Just the nighttime nursing, right? Because that's normal to not want to give that one up, right? "Hmm, no, still 4 to 6 times a day if I'm working, and 8 to 10 if I'm not." Another little silence.

Now, to their credit, that's all they said. I know they don't share a majority of my parenting philosophies with me, but they do care about me. I could tell, though, that they were holding their comments for my benefit.

It's just odd to me that breastfeeding a small child is so unnatural in our society.

On the other hand, I am finding "extended" nursing parents all the time in places I would never expect. Like yesterday, at the Food Bank, where I and 180 of my closest work friends showed up on MLK, Jr. day to volunteer for pay. (Thank you, KP!) One of the department administrators and I started chatting and he and his wife have a 6-year-old girl who nursed until she was almost three. It's refreshing to find people who are on the same track as we are.

I think breastfeeding in public helps to normalize it, but I think talking unashamedly about it does, too.

My friend HoboMama recently posted on this same topic here. She has a beautiful photo of a woman weaving a basket, who also happens to have a toddler on his knees holding her breast in both hands while he stops in the middle of his day to take a drink. It is precious.

Nursing an infant is full of slurpy-milky-wonderfulness. Closeness. Sleepiness. Warm nurturing goodness.

Nursing a toddler is more like being a lighthouse in the middle of a whirlwind storm. (And least in our house it is.) Play play play. Throw balls. "Sweep" the floor. "Ma-Ma-Mil?" Yes, honey. Slurp. Slurp. Read books. Run. Elmo. Snack. Dance, dance, dance!! "Ma-Ma-Mil?" Yes, sweetie. Ma-Ma sniffs her hair and kisses her forehead just in time before she pulls off (slurrrrrp, smack!) and she's off running again.

The only time it's really what I'd call a "nursing session" is in the dark part of the day when we're either getting ready for sleep, sleeping, or waking up. It's the nighttime and waking up moments I treasure so, because they have a hint of the baby days in them that just melts my mommy-heart and does me a world of good after a long day away at the office.

In these sweet, quiet moments she will still rest her hand on my face, or on my heart. She will still gaze up at me with those big, deep eyes as if to say, "thank you, mama, for holding me." She will still nestle into me -- even more so now that her world is growing bigger every day. It grounds us, sets us up for the day.

I worry that our catch-as-catch can routine will make my milk dry up.

I worry that she'll inadvertantly (or on purpose - eegh!) bite me again. (She's only done that once so far, and I think my yelp and subsequent 30 minute nursing break made her realize that's not a good way to get mama milk.)

I worry that an upcoming business trip or my upcoming scrapbooking retreat will be enough days apart that she'll decide she's done for good.

Eh, worry aside. Every day is a gift. A wonderful gift wherein I am amazed by the fact that we are still nursing, and that I love it so much.