Chapter, Closed

Lucy and Harry at eight weeks old, post meal, post tandem feed. There is not much that rivals the sweetness of a well-fed, satisfied newborn.

Last week, I breast fed my last baby. It was Harry. Lucy self-weaned a few months ago, with no fanfare.

Harry's end came after several nights of chewing and biting and not doing anything very close to what resembled nursing at zero o'clock in the morning (this was during the Great Trip to Oregon--no way have I been giving him middle of the night snacks in the "real world"). Yes, it was then that I realized it was time. No more. As it was, he was only nursing before sleep--naps or going down for the night. But then we returned to New Jersey and for a few nights, Softie/Chicken that I am, I continued to nurse him and he seemed to be able to take it or leave it--nurse, pull away, look around, cuddle, nurse. But it was very little actual nursing. It really was time to stop.

Harry hasn't seemed to notice one bit.

I have.

Six weeks old

I was, admittedly, ready to wean him, the last baby I will ever nurse. Although I would hold almost exclusively breast feeding twins up as one of my top accomplishments, it was certainly not the same as nursing a single baby. There is not a lot of snuggling and gazing down at your newborn. It is a lot of logistics. It is getting everyone (including yourself!) situated. There is clock watching and balancing and trying to burp one while another still eats. There is trying to set one sleeping baby into an apparatus while balancing the other, non-sleeping baby--proud to say I never let one roll off the nursing pillow though there were a few close calls!

With confidence, and after a bit of nursing experience under your belt, you can actually multitask while breastfeeding one baby. I've been known to make phone calls (duh!), cook dinner, follow a toddler around the house to keep him out of harm's way, all while breastfeeding one baby.

Seven weeks old

But nursing two? Yeah, that's pretty much all you do. I did figure out how to type on my laptop and nurse Harry and Lucy. Believe me, it wasn't pretty, but it was functional. Desperate times calling for desperate measures, and all of that. And don't get me wrong--I'm grateful I was able to nurse them together. I'm fairly confident that it was because I was experienced at breastfeeding that it went as well as it did.

The summer of 2011 saw a lot of breastfeeding around our house.

September, 2011

This photo was not staged. I promise. Leo and Ellie were more than a little fascinated. Who can blame them? It's practically all they saw me doing from June to September. That pink pillow? That striped loved seat? Hours upon hours were spent with those items.

I stopped tandem feeding them when they were around five months. They just became too wiggly and the older they got, the more efficient they became at nursing, so it wasn't such a big deal to nurse one and then the other. I won't say I was sad to stop tandem feeding them (I didn't call the tandem nursing the pillow the *$&%ing pink pillow for nothing).

As "magical" as it was to provide nourishment to two babies at once? I've don't think I've ever felt more claustrophobic or trapped. I tried to be in the moment, to know that The Days Are Long And The Years Are Short...but I remember sitting on that little love seat feeling absolutely trapped. Leo needed a snack. Ellie was upstairs wailing in the bathroom for more toilet paper.

Eight weeks old
Let's say that tandem nursing #3 and #4 is a far cry from whiling away the days with a firstborn and hours upon hours of daytime television ("America's Next Top Model," circa 2004, to be specific).

When I was pregnant with the babies, a lot of people asked me if I was going to breastfeed and I said that I hoped so. I was cautious though, knowing from my experience trying to nurse Leo, that there are no guarantees.

I still remember being pregnant with Leo, perusing the pregnancy books a friend lent me. I smugly perused a book on breastfeeding, bemused that a whole book could be dedicated to something as basic as breastfeeding. You put the baby on, they eat, end of story, right? Ha. And then Leo was born and he was sleepy and smooshy mouthed with low tone in his lips and jaw. He'd latch his beautiful little heart shaped mouth and...promptly fall asleep. I tried a nipple shield, cold compresses (to wake him up), paid a lactation consultant hundreds of dollars. And ultimately, I exclusively pumped (I was a no-formula Nazi with Leo, which I cringe about now) for almost five months. The birth hadn't gone as planned, the baby wasn't who I expected, but gosh darn it, I was going to get this breastfeeding thing right!

But then I didn't. At least, not in the "official" way, in that I had to use that stupid, ugly, awful, uncomfortable, god forsaken breast pump to get him the milk. No, I'm not bitter, why do you ask?

I will always remember the chilly December day that I cradled an almost five month old Leo in my arms. He kept nuzzling up to me, moving his mouth toward a breast like he wanted...to nurse? How many times had I tried it and failed? Hundreds? Oh hell, I thought. Why not? I sat down and pulled up my sweater and whadya know, Leo latched on like he was born to do it (he was, of course, just in his own time, as he's done everything else). Now that I think about it, I'm not sure what I'm more proud of, breastfeeding twins, or not giving up on breastfeeding Leo. There are both high on my list.

And Ellie? Ellie's nursing story is boring. She latched. I nursed her. She ate beautifully. Sure I was filled with guilt for thinking (aha, this is how it's supposed to go) but what can you do?

I didn't expect weaning Harry to conjure up all these "My Babies!" feelings, but it has. And these so called "babies" are not so baby-like these days. They explore their world with intense focus. Harry opens all the drawers and cupboards he can get his hands on. He's already figured out how to open the DVD player (programming the DVR will be next, I'm sure).

Lucy "drives" her car around the house and this weekend mastered climbing in and out of a chair. Don't even get me started on the language (Oh, OK, I'll get started). She repeats words--is a total parrot. She shakes her head "no" when you give her something she doesn't like (egg yolks) to eat. The signing? It's ridiculous: She knows the sign for "play," "all done," "more," "milk." I'll stop there.

So yes, I'll say it. Where have my "babies" gone?

The other day Erin came home with the news that a friend is pregnant with her second baby. I'm thrilled for her, of course. But I'd be lying if I said that with every pregnancy announcement I hear, with every swelling stomach that I see, that there isn't a little pang...that will never be me again. No more babies. No more nursing.

My cup runneth way, way over. There is no way I want more or need more, that I could ever have more than I already have. But a chapter has closed, that era has ended: the end of our baby days is here.

And it's remarkable to me, how one can feel both grateful and wistful at the same time.