imageA dreaded word when you have a newborn.  Dreaded and yet a blessing – at least you know there is enough, unless there is too much and your baby is drowning every time your milk lets down. 

It happens:  gulp, gulp, gulp – he has to pull off, take a break, because you are the proverbial milk factory.

Now that my baby is three years old, he is no longer in danger of drowning, to say the least.  Now, I am rarely sure anything is “going on” when he has his nummies; now, I savour every last one of our cuddles, because he’ll announce “all done” at any second; now, he is falling asleep on me less and less often (how will I know when it’s the last time I feel his body twitch and go perfectly still, his breath a soft melody against me); now, I know he will not be mine, in the same way, ever again – and now, being engorged is a welcome feeling.

Now, it reminds me sweetly of when he was small.  Of course, it is never too painful now, just a fleeting pang-iness when I have missed bedtime and have a little too much to go around.  I don’t bother doing anything about it, except maybe try to linger a bit longer the next time, if he’ll stick around – he has a busy life now and not much time for cuddling.

With a tiny baby, engorgement was a panic thing – because of supply and demand, every time it happened, I was sure there would be less milk next time.  Yet we’ve survived; he seems to have gotten more than his share.

Now, it just reminds me that we are closer to The End than I might like.


  1. I miss that. I was hoping my now three year old would have nursed until her third birthday anyway, but nursing became so painful as she pulled 'me' through her teeth that we had to wean a bit past two. sigh...


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