The last time I breastfed Catherine, she was three years and three months old. I was about six to eight weeks pregnant. Morning sickness was setting in, as was breast tenderness. We’d already been “forgetting” to breastfeed more days than not, so it was only a matter of time anyway. We stopped for a few days, and that could have been it, but we had one last time. And it was special.

The reason we had one last time, when I had really intended it to be over, is because we both needed comforting. I’d had some signs of miscarriage, and was scared I was losing the baby. Then, they found a cyst and ordered an MRI, and I was terrified of the possibilities. It was an exhausting and stressful time. I honestly don’t remember what was going on with Catherine that day and that moment, but I just felt we both needed to snuggle up.

If you haven’t breastfed, you might not know that doing it releases calming endorphins instantly. And I can’t speak for Catherine, but I can tell you that there’s something addictive about breastfeeding for little ones, too. To this day, she still loves my boobies. Anyway, we curled up on the bed with the sunlight coming through the sides of the window shades and nursed one last time.

Breastfeeding is not just a gift you give your child. It’s one she gives to you, too.

I’m looking forward to what I hope will be an equally great breastfeeding relationship with our new baby in May.