I lay on the floor in her dark, quiet room, my head resting on our nursing pillow.
Michael held a calm, tired Kaya in our rocking chair. She was almost asleep.
It should be me holding her. This is our special time together. That’s our rocking chair.
But she only wanted her Daddy.
This has been so much harder than I ever expected.
Not for her, but for me.
Kaya self-weaned a couple weeks ago, and I’ve been a teary-eyed mess ever since.
Maybe my emotions are just amplified because of the pregnancy hormones, but it’s really hard to lose that physical connection to my first baby.
For more than two years my body provided some sort of nourishment and protection for her.
And suddenly, we’re just done.
Of course, I am so grateful for those 16.5 months. Many moms don’t even get to nurse that long, let alone through half of another pregnancy.
I just miss that closeness. Some of my best memories are in that rocking chair.
I miss her anxious, sleepy eyes looking over at me while her daddy would get her pajamas on every night.
I miss the way she’d cling to me in the dark.
How her body would relax and melt into mine, heavy with sleep.
Those quiet moments when the whole world slept, except she and I.
I was her comfort, and now, at times, I feel like nothing to her. Although I know deep down it isn’t true, I can’t help feeling useless when she is inconsolable.
Those 16.5 months were some of the best, but I know they’re short compared to all the learning and growing we have ahead of us.
So I’ll just remember all the giggles, all the love, and all the late nights we spent in that chair. I’ll remember the last time she really nursed, and the way I stroked her hair while she did, just like I have since the very beginning. My face was wet with tears after I laid her in her bed that night.
Here’s to a million more kisses and hugs to fill the void. I love you Kaya Rose.