A Marker

A letter to my daughter, to mark a moment when one thing ended and led to something greater.

My darling Eleanor,

Today you and I curled up in my bed after lunch and I nursed you for the last time. I held you as you latched on, head tilted up to look into my face, your little hand wrapped around my finger. You wore a summer dress, green with white polka dots, your wispy hair getting into your eyes. I gently brushed your face so that you could see me clearly. 

You haven’t needed the milk for several months now (as evidence by the constant snacking you do!), but we have continued on at nap time for the comfort and bonding. I don’t take the fact I could nurse you for granted, but consider it a gift that only you and I could share. For nearly 25 months I have held you in my arms, my body providing refuge and sustenance, comfort and belonging.

I told Grandma Maureen that I nursed you for the last time and she said: “I remember how I felt when I nursed you for the last time. May you continue to have such sweet times together. Gentle hugs for you my precious girl and beautiful woman.” And that is the beauty of motherhood. 

Grandma nursed me. Her arms and body providing what I needed. I nursed you. And one day, you may hold your own child in your arms and provide for them what only a mother can give. Generation after generation, demonstrating in such a tangible, beautiful way the comfort and provision of our Heavenly Father. For this is what scripture says: 

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

- 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I knew a few weeks ago that we were reaching the end. My body and my heart were ready. You are ready. And the journey has just begun!

While the milk supply is gone, some things will stay the same. The comfort, refuge and belonging you find in my arms will never end. When you scrape your knee, my arms will be there to hold you. When you learn to ride a bike, my arms will be there to help steady you. When you want to swing on the monkey bars, my arms will be there to lift you up. When you have a fight with your friend (or your sister), my arms will be there to hug you tight and wipe away your tears. When you become a mom yourself, my arms will be there to make you food and do your laundry and clean your house while you hold your own little one. 

And there will be fun new things as well! Increasing independence. Endless adventure. Lessons to learn. Sweet girl, we may have finished this stage, but I have so much more to give you.

You are asleep now beside me, but I wanted to mark this moment: to take the time to thank God for you, to thank Him for the ways He has comforted and provided for me, to mark His faithfulness to both of us. 

I love you to the moon and back. 

Momma

Eleanor. 2 years old. And apparently all grown up now that she doesn’t need “momma milk”