It is finished.

The morning Josiah turned 2 years, 2 months, 1 week, and 5 days old, I startled myself when I declared in the morning, "it is finished." Breastfeeding, that is. As I lay down to sleep the night before I had no such plans or schemes. I woke up with a complete peace to cease fire (or spray). I matter-of-factly told Josiah that the na-na's were all gone. I told him cheerfully, as if it was perfectly fine. I also told him that the milk was all gone. I'm considering it the truth since I technically thought the next part of the sentence silently...for Josiah. That would sound like, "Josiah, the milk is all gone...(mouth quits moving, brain still thinking...) for Josiah." Since this technicality exists, I don't feel bad about the fact that my breasts are currently aching and fully engorged with milk two days later. He pouted for a minute, but he readily accepted this clear fact of life. (Gasp, what!? How did that work!?)

For the last couple of weeks I have intermittently entertained the idea by saying, "Josiah, one day soon the na-nas are going to be all gone." At this statement he would scowl up his face, pucker his bottom lip out, and burst into tears. I'm not lying. Therefore, when the milk went away, I expected a very similar reaction.

I tried not to get too excited about it on the first day. After all, it was just one day. Day two came and went. Every time he asked about na-na's I cheerfully told him that the na-na milk was all gone. Then I would tell him to say it. Magically, it was a fact of life that he embraced as much as me saying, "it's dark outside."

Today was day 3, and things seem to be going well enough that I feel confident enough to say that we aren't turning back. Wow. There was no sentimental "last nursing." No tears. I think it is good that way. If I had scheduled his last meal, if you will, I would have been overly dramatic and emotional. I know it. It is a little sad even still to close this chapter of our lives together, but 2 years, 2 months, 1 week, and 5 days into it...I think I've served my time. I was talking to a girlfriend who has a 7 month old. We were talking about how the kids just take over one's chest as if it were a possession all their own. Then, I made a very daunting statement to her. I said, "and just imagine, I have been doing it four times longer than you have." We were both a little startled by that concept. Maybe subliminally that idea is what gave me peace to call it quits.

I am so grateful for the way I have been humbled in my parenthood simply through breastfeeding. As I awaited Josiah's birth, I had a goal of nursing for 1 year. I thought that would be great. When I spent some time around toddlers, I thought to myself "18 month olds are just big walking babies." It gave me the confidence to declare, "Ok, 18 month cap. ABSOLUTELY." I didn't want to be the "freak" that participated in extended breastfeeding. Unfortunately, my pride was trampled across as 18 months came and went with no signs of Josiah wanting to give up the habit. I adjusted my plan, stating, "okay, 2 years isn't so bad--but 2 years is the cap." Here were are 2.5 months past 2. I have no pride anymore. I am just grateful for the things I have learned along the way.

I would like to step up on a soapbox now and say that in all of my nail-biting anxiety as to whether Josiah would ever want to wean, I learned some very important facts. Worldwide, the average age for weaning is between 2 and 3 years old. The World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding at least two years. Yes, I did just say at least. Studies have shown that children breastfed for extended periods of time have less respiratory and ear infections, higher IQs, better relational skills, and a lowered risk of diabetes and obesity in their adult life. Additionally, the majority of children, left to their own devices, will wean themselves before age 3. These ideas made me feel slightly more confident that Josiah wouldn't go to kindergarten asking for na-na, and that I wasn't truly a "freak" at all. I just wasn't like 98% of American women.

In the future, I look forward to breastfeeding any and every baby we welcome into our family. I even want to breastfeed my future adopted babies (yes, that is possible). I wonder if they will all be as captivated by my chest as Josiah was. I don't expect them to be. I think I will force their hands (if necessary) to at least make the 1 year mark (adoption circumstances definitely being taken in account first). I do think Mom knows best here. After all, Josiah didn't get sick until 2 months after his second birthday. However, if no one wants to match big brother's record, I will be content with that as well.

I have been so fulfilled in my motherhood through the bonding breastfeeding creates. I am absolutely awe struck that I could grow a chubby child for over 6 months outside of my womb with nothing but what came out of my own body. I am equally fascinated that the Lord gave my body all it needed to sustain myself and another little person. I am so grateful that for over 2 years I had a perfectly abundant milk supply despite working full time and grueling 12.5 hour shifts that didn't always have the grace to let me pump at will. Thank you, Lord, for two years of humility, growing, nurturing, and sweet moments with my son in my arms. As we enter this next stage of life, I am excited (and a little nervous) to see on which other parenting absolutes I will recant.