This past week Ayda and I shared her last bit of warm, sweet milk. Me the maker and she the recipient of a liquid that means more than just sustenance. Nursing takes time out of our busy schedules, nursing takes tolerance, nursing takes a toll on our bodies, beyond that of pregnancy, nursing takes a mother's constant presence and finally nursing takes pillows, a cozy spot, and a lot of cuddling. I am happy that we have moved on to a new phase of our relationship, but this, being my last child, is also sad and I need to take time to acknowledge it. I will never again be the sole source of nutrition and dependance for a baby. I will never again feel the pain, intensity, and empowerment of childbirth. I will never hold up clothing so tiny, fresh from the laundry, and cry at the unbelievability that anything could be so small. I will never again call my husband to share first words or steps. I will never again hold another wet, new soul to my bosom and sigh and cry in awe of the life that myself, my husband, our love, and God created. As much as I want this freedom, this autonomy from my children, I also mourn it.

I will always be their mother, they will always be my children, but they will not always need me like they do now. I'm going to hold tight to these children, even when the days feel so hard, because one day they will be holding their own children. And we provide them with the love they store for their own. I want them to hold on to their children like it's all that matters in the world. Because, when you boil it all down, THIS IS all that matters. Money can buy most anything but it will never buy the feeling of a baby taking your face in their teeny little hands and offering the sweetest angel kiss on your lips. Education will help you learn more but it doesn't make you intelligent. There is nothing more intelligent than knowing that the child you raise is your gift or burden to the world. Travel will take you to new places and introduce you to new cultures. There is no experience more foreign, exciting (or anxiety producing) than that of discovering a child's unique and individual personality. To our children we are all of these things: rich, intelligent, and well-traveled. They don't know any different until we or the world outside of our home tells them different. So, yes, I am sad. But, my happiness is also overpowering because I know that this sadness is necessary to move down the road we are traveling. Similar to nursing, there will always be the warmth and love that flows between myself and my children, despite life's biting grip on us. We will persevere, relying on one another for our soul's sustenance.