My Precious Wrighty Pie,
Can I tell you a little secret? Before you were born, Mommy and Daddy weren't sure if we wanted to have a third child. I even said to myself (and to a few trusted friends!), 'We have two wonderful, yet uniquely different, little girls. I can't picture what having a third child, potentially a third girl, could add?' As I look at you, my beautiful nine month old baby girl, I simply cannot imagine life without you. Really, I can't even comprehend that our family was a family before you joined us. You, my Precious Angel, have completed us.

Our first interaction with each other in the outside world, was your first sleepy nursing session after you were born. I remember you being so tiny that it felt like I was holding a little doll's head in the palm of my hand as you ate. Those first few days were challenging -- for me, I mean. You, My Dear, were a champion eater from the get-go! Upon seeing one of Mommy's battle wounds, Daddy even commented that if men had to breastfeed then all babies would take bottles! But we got through it, you and I, and we settled in at home to begin our journey together.

The beginning of our love story.

Our home in your early weeks was not what I would describe as calm; your two big sisters made sure that having a new baby in the house would in no way hinder their rambunctious activity. So, Mommy began to see our nursing sessions (though still quite painful for me for the first few weeks) as peaceful moments in the midst of our crazy days. Even in the middle of the night when I would hear your little squeak (never a cry) coming from the Moses basket, I was happy to scoop you up for eating and snuggling. Sometimes, I would let you fall asleep on my chest for a couple of hours before the big girls were ready to start their day. The soft brushing of your little peach fuzzed head against my cheek is a feeling I'll never forget.

Sunday afternoon nap for us both.

Week by week, nursing got easier for Mommy, and with the physical ease came an even greater opportunity for our bonding. By Christmas you were staying awake more and more, and when your sweet gaze met mine during feedings, my heart crumbled into a million pieces.

A break from eating to flirt with Mommy.

Because having three kiddos is a lot of work, nursing was pretty much the only time during the day that Mommy actually sat down. And, because you were always such a perfect baby, who was content just watching all the goings-on around you, this was also pretty much the only time I really held you. We would often be joined on the sofa by Carter or Murphy who'd be 'feeding' their babies -- or, more than once, trying to feed you!

Murphy Girl playing Mommy.

As you got older, you'd become more active and distracted while you were eating. If Daddy was around, you were quick to make a head turn in his direction, flash him your million dollar grin, and then get back to the business of eating. You nursed well through sickness and on airplanes, yet you were still willing to take an occasional bottle if Mommy needed to be away during your feeding time.
For the past several months Mommy has been having some problems with recurring infections, and, to keep you healthy, your doctor has strongly encouraged me to make a transition to baby formula and bottles. Mommy has always been of the opinion that nursing ends whenever either party is ready for it to be over. I don't think that either you or I are ready, but the end is here nonetheless.
You and I have been on remarkable journey together, a journey that is coming to an end a little sooner than either of us expected. I will miss the sweet little growling sound you make when you are dozing off at feeding time.

Sleepy sweetheart.

I'll miss the way you twirl my necklace in your long fingers and the way you outline my lips and teeth with those fingers. I will miss our lingering gazes; when I look into your eyes, I feel like I've known you forever.

Full belly. Happy baby.

Even though you don't have the words to articulate how it feels, I know this transition will be hard for you, too,  I promise to make time for special snuggling sessions and to find moments to gaze into those eyes. I know that you don't need to drink Mommy's milk to feel Mommy's love. You are my baby, my last baby, and I feel a sadness that's incomprehensible - even to me - at this ending. During your bedtime feeding last night, I shared many of these feelings with you.

Your sweet eyes stared right at me.

I could almost hear you saying, 'Don't cry, Mommy.'

Thank you for allowing me to be your Mommy. Thank you traveling this journey with me. Forgive me for having to end it sooner than either of us would like. Know that I did my absolute best for you and always will.
I love you more than words can express,
Mommy

A Sad Day in Mommydom

Early this morning with the house still quiet, I sat in the sunroom and consciously nursed my baby girl for the last time. I say consciously because when I woke up this morning, I decided that today would be the day that I would officially stop breastfeeding. As I gazed down at my precious Murphy, I thought back to the last six months of our nursing journey.
A few days before Murphy was born, I told a friend that I was more scared of nursing than the epidural, c-section, or surgical recovery that laid ahead. I had a less than pleasant experience attempting to breastfeed Carter, and I was terrified of the immense pain and guilt that I was sure would be a part nursing my newborn. When Murphy was two days old, a nurse in my hospital room asked me if I was enjoying breastfeeding. With hot tears streaming down my face and postpartum hormones raging, I stoically replied, "I hate it." She softly suggested that I give up nursing, but in my mind, that wasn't an option I cared to entertain.

Admiring my new little love 

as she dozed with her tummy nice and full.

A week later, I sat on my back patio with a girlfriend who asked me how nursing was going. I calmly said, "It's going well, but I won't be doing it for long." At that point, each feeding session lasted at least an hour which was quite a challenge given that I often had a two year old climbing on my head while I tried to feed the baby. Additionally, though not as severe as it was with Carter, breastfeeding still hurt. A LOT. I randomly discovered that biting down on popsicles while feeding Murphy helped to relieve the pain, and during the first few weeks after she was born, I easily consumed over 50 popsicles.
At Murphy's two week check-up, I asked the pediatrician her thoughts on how long I should continue nursing. She said, "Do you not like it?" Again, I plainly said, "No." She suggested that I give myself the goal of two months and to take it day by day. When I left her office that day, I did decide that I would try my best to keep it up for two months. Over those two months, I had talks with many girlfriends who offered lots of tips and encouragement. (I learned that the excruciating feeling comparable to lightning shooting through my chest was actually a good thing and meant that I had plenty of milk for baby girl.) Nursing sessions began to last 15-20 minutes as Murphy was able to stay awake longer and became a much more efficient eater.
Those two months came and went, and I actually stopped dreading nursing sessions. It was easy to leave the house with only a diaper in my purse; no need to pack bottles, formula, bibs, etc... Middle of the night feeding was such a breeze, as I could just reach over to Murphy's Moses basket, pick her up, and feed her; no stumbling through the dark house into the kitchen to make a bottle. By the time Murphy turned three months old, not only did I not dread nursing I actually began to enjoy it which is something I honestly never thought could have happened.
As time continued to pass, I was mindful of the fact that my hubby and I would be traveling to Jamaica for a dear friend's wedding just after Murphy's six month birthday. In preparation for being away from the babe, I began working with her to take a bottle. She had absolutely no interest in a bottle, so I had to go as far as to conduct what I coined as 'Bottle Boot Camp' which entailed me leaving her with a sitter all day with only the bottle as her food option. She used this opportunity to display her strongest resolve and refused to eat for almost ten hours. Fortunately, on the first day of our trip, she finally conceded and began to drink both breast milk and formula from bottles in my absence.

Happy with my Hubby at the rehearsal dinner

in Jamaica... between pumpings!

During the trip, I carried both a double electric pump and a manual hand pump with me on the plane. I pumped in airport bathrooms, airplane bathrooms, our fancy schmancy villa, and a random room at the wedding reception. I pumped. And pumped. And pumped; all in an effort to maintain my milk supply so that I could seamlessly continue nursing when I returned home. Despite my best efforts, my milk supply dropped. And dropped. And dropped. By the Monday night when we returned to Denver, I was scarcely able to pump 1/2 an ounce of breastmilk.

When Murphy girl woke up on Tuesday morning, I went upstairs to get her up and feed her. I was so thrilled at how she immediately turned to me to nurse her, despite the fact that I had been gone for five days. However, she only nursed for a couple minutes and then began to cry. Reluctant and sad, I walked downstairs, made her a bottle of formula, and watched as she gulped down seven ounces. Yesterday was a tough day; I nearly burst into tears just selecting which formula I should buy at Costco, and I did cry when my husband fed her a bottle at bedtime. This was the first night, ever, that I had not nursed her before laying her down for the night.
So, this is why I made a conscious decision this morning to nurse Murphy one last time today. I wanted to feel like I was making this choice, rather than having my body make it for me. Of course, I was only able to feed her for about five minutes, but I used that time to deliberately enjoy the experience. I whispered to my sweet angel how much I had loved our special bonding time, and that I would so greatly miss it. I told her that it was my love for her that lead me to push few those first few difficult months, and I thanked her for helping me to realize my own strength.

Murphy Girl today...

her sweet eyes are my comfort.