I'm His Boo
Ever since my youngest could talk, he's called nursing "boo." I have no idea where he came up with this because I honestly tried to call it the lame "num nums" or some baby-talk like that. But he still calls it boo, and now so does everyone in the family. My mom even jokes that, "when he's 'off the boo' maybe he can come stay the night" and so forth.
Gray turned two in October and still nurses like a newborn (or so it seems) sometimes. My original plan was to nurse him past one year if possible. For some reason I thought he might have trouble nursing this long. This child was made to breastfeed. I think that's all he lives for. He's a boob man, that's for sure. So, now we're past the two year mark.
I know about all the good benefits for him (boost in immunity) and me (preventing some cancers), but the reason we still do it is because it works for both of us. It just seems to fit. It's our thing. I'd LOVE to have a little more freedom and maybe, say, my chest all to myself again. And I just might have a secret dream of burning all my nursing bras... as much as all of that runs through my mind more often than not- I love nursing him more. More than the freedom and more than my hate for the evil nursing bra.
It's really not about me not wanting to let him go- it's just a dance we do, this breastfeeding thing. It's not methodical to feed him a certain amount of feedings a day, and it's not something I stress about wondering what other people think. We just do it, and someday we won't any longer. I am sure we're closer to the end being near for us. So I'm taking in every last moment we share together and treasuring it. So thankful that we've had this much time at all. He'll always be my baby and I'll always be his boo.
Find Steph and all her boo goodness at Adventures In Babywearing.