I know he is there even though he doesn't make a sound other than his breathing. He stands at the side of my bed and waits for me to lean over the edge, scoop him up under his arms, and lift him into bed with me.
Most nights, he slips into the crook of my arms and falls right back to sleep. A few nights ago, he quietly asked, "Nurse nurse?"
He is almost three. During the day, he couldn't be bothered with nursing. There are bad guys to fight, dogs to chase, costumes to wear, cars to race. He doesn't have time for the "nuh-nuh's." When I put him down for a nap, he usually likes to nurse to sleep. I let him, and then I slip out of his bed and back downstairs to get some work done.
Only, lately, he has been too busy to nap. No nap, no nurse nurse.
So a few nights ago, he asked, I obliged, and we rolled over onto our sides and scooted into position for a little side lying nursing. I barely even woke up. I don't know how long he tried. All I know is that the next thing I hear Colin saying is,
"Mama? I really want for the milk to come out."
Then my heart broke just a little bit.
My last baby. My last nursling. And the end just snuck up on us.
It's alright. I knew it wasn't going to last forever. I've sold the cloth diapers. The crib and the toddler bed are long gone. Cups don't automatically have lids snapped on them before being given over to the small people. Booster seats have replaced convertible car seats.
It's been a long time coming. He's almost three. I love who he has become in his three years. He is smart and funny and I wouldn't trade him in for a newborn for anything.
But, just, ooooph. It's just a little bit hard to be letting him go. My baby.
