685 Mornings

685 suns have risen in 685 mornings, and for 685 days, my body has belonged to my precious Helena. For the first time in 685 days, there will be no new organs and fingernails growing in my belly, I will not endure birth, I will not learn to feed a new baby, and I will never nurse this toddler again. Tomorrow will be the first that belongs to me, albeit a 'me' still dissolved in diapers, breakfast fixing, and the morning routines of motherhood. My mornings will no longer begin with the rhythmic cadence of nursing; tomorrow I am replaced by a sippy cup.

Countless tender moments, frustrating cries shared between us. I did it. I feel the urge to poke fun at my overdramatic tendencies; how desperately I need to blow everything up into something bigger than it actually is. But I’m not going to do that. This morning I spoke kindness into my heart. “You did it. You made these remarkable little girls. You are a miracle. Well done, you.”

I’m fairly certain Helena is my last. I don’t feel that I have the emotional fortitude to say deliberately, “I am strong enough to do all of this again.” But on a day like this, it’s tough to be so certain that it’s over. It’s over. They are my plenty, my cup runneth over,

and over,

and over. 

I’m nursing my 4th sickness since September and this one is hitting me so hard that Tylenol would not suffice, and, as you know, you’re limited in the medication you can take while nursing. And how fitting. Sudafed is what you take to dry up your milk supply, so we’ll kill two birds with one pill. Every 4 hours. 

Isn’t it incredible how many different, and conflicting feelings you can have all at once? While I’m crying, mourning the loss of this very precious time in my life, I can hear the fife and drum corps leading me to my own revolution! I declare my independence! I don’t have the same body as I did 685 days ago, but I love it more than I ever did at any point in my entire life. 

In a few short hours, the sun will set on this 685th day. Tomorrow will become another thread to my small, and growing tapestry of motherhood. Another square on the quilt. And I will begin the next!