Those words have been spoken by more pregnant and/or nursing mothers than I think anyone can ever count. I don't understand it.
If I say those words, I'm going to be talking about my body from February, 2007, when I was the thinnest I've been in decades. Although, sans the faulty gallbladder, thanks. At that time, I was exclusively nursing my firstborn.
|Why wouldn't I want to look like this again?|
|10 months: Lillyanna|
But once they were out, that didn't mean that I would magically stop nurturing my baby. Even if I had chosen to bottle feed, my baby still would have been dependent on me for everything for the next six months minimum (at which point, she could at least put food in her own mouth, though it wasn't for sustenance, still) and still dependent on me for the next... oh... eighteen years or so. I suppose a child becomes independent around 16, when they can get a job. Although, since they can't rent an apartment or get married without an adult, maybe not.
|39 weeks, 5 days: Naomi|
|10 Months: Katarina|
My body is mine. I'm simply sharing it. Maybe it's because I'm an extrovert, but there's a sadness, to me, at the thought of being alone in here again. This post was inspired by the one by Jessica for the Carnival of Weaning because what she said spoke volumes to me, even though I've only been nursing for half a decade. I won't necessarily be sad to be done nursing--I've been happy with both my nursing and weaning relationships thus far. But being done with pregnancy does sadden me, but more, I'll be a very sad mama the day our nest empties for good.