And he nursed for the last time.

It wasn't anything I or my husband pushed, this slow and steady weaning process. Breastfeeding just fell off the radar, with one session dropped, another forgotten. Finally, last Wednesday, Tycho nursed for the last time.

He turns 21 months today, the little stinker! He's running, talking (sometimes incessantly), giggling, constantly learning. Each day, he grows more and more, both physically and mentally. It's amazing to watch someone you made and raised turn into his own individual person, and I'm literally lost for words to describe the feeling.

Last Wednesday, at an unacceptable 5:45am, Tycho nursed for the last time. He had woken up asking for Dada, and when Dada relented, Tycho was brought to me in our bed for nursing (and, admittedly, some quiet time before our alarm clock went off at 6:30).

We had been down to morning nursing alone for a long time at that point -- I'd say, the past two months. He weaned his night-nursing at that time, and we instead changed the routine to include snuggles on the couch, reading a few books in bed, and kissing his sweet face as he sank into his pillow. That itself was bittersweet, so for the following months, I held onto that last shred of babyhood.

Having relactated when Tycho was just a few months old, I'm filled with pride to say that I nursed him this long. It was truly a miraculous and marvelous thing to nourish him in the beginning and to continue offering comfort as he grew older; there was literally nothing that nursing couldn't fix. I knew it would end, but I didn't realize just how emotional I'd be after the fact, or just how determinedly white-knuckled I'd be as it attempted to slip through my fingers.

But six mornings have passed now since Tycho has even mentioned his nenes, and while I in no way encouraged him to continue when he was clearly done, I'm left pining for 5:45 mornings, kissing his hair, and snuggling him that much closer as we lay in bed.

Babies, man... they really don't keep.

There's so much awaiting me as a mother, though, and while it's hard to accept, moving into this next stage and knowing that it just gets better from here brings me so much joy that I can't contain it all. I swell with so much pride every day for my son that, in the end, I'm happy to leave the baby stage in the dust!

Yes, I remain wistful, even a bit sad. I liken it to mourning. But this is just the start of a new, exciting path of independence, engaging conversations (even constant questions and back-talking!), teaching him to ride a bike, learning grade school science all over again, watching him hit a grand slam, and everything else that comes with... well, growing up.

Tycho's clearly ready for it, so I'm taking his lead... and eagerly forging on into this next phase of motherhood. ♥