I feel the weight of the inevitable bearing down on me; soon, surely, you will leave me.
The feedings are becoming less frequent, and my baby is growing. So tonight, in this rocking chair, lit by a star-shaped turtle, I wanted to tell you just how much I love you.
This love wasn’t innate or easy. Our relationship began when you were conspicuously absent, even as I was coming of age. We finally got to know each other when you showed up—when you finally emerged. Your presence was then noticed and even celebrated by my friends with a May West and a candle in the hallway of the Cégep dorms. I was so proud to finally carry you! You were tiny but well-supported, like two little rocks! Naively, I thought you were immortal. When I look back on that time, I regret not having loved you as much as you deserved. I took your strength for granted.
Then came the grueling ordeal of my milk coming in. What a major transformation! I have to admit, you were absolute champions during that time. As for me, I owe you an “I’m sorry.” I had a hard time adjusting to your new size—and especially to all the stares you attracted. So I didn’t really enjoy having you with me during those milk-filled months.
I should have! It probably would have helped me get through the sad post-breastfeeding period. Phew! You were out of breath. And with good reason! That lull gave me time to reflect on my constant dissatisfaction with you. Yet you were perfect, whether back when you were little rocks or even shells (the best way to describe your gigantic presence—sorry). So I decided that from that moment on, I was going to love you—in all your forms.
During my second pregnancy, I carried you with pride, I accepted you at every stage, and I enjoyed you just as you were.
So it is with great regret that I realize your imminent departure—and that it’s forever. Because no, there won’t be another baby.
If I may, I warmly invite you to stay a little full, even though the milk is gone. If you’ll let me, I’ll cherish you every day for the rest of my life. But I’m reasonable, and I’ll understand if this really is goodbye.
I forgive you, and I’ll love you anyway. Thank you for the wonderful years. You’ve been such a great support to me. You’ve nourished my children so well. I’ll be forever grateful to you.
Your constant battle against gravity has been honorable, “girls.”
I bow deeply to you.