One week from right now, she will be two. My baby, my youngest, will be two years old.
I am farther away from baby in my belly, from childbirth, from new-born life, and am holding heavy in the toddler/child/tween stage now.
I say Ivy has completely skipped age 2 and moved straight to 3. We have conversations. She has opinions and can express them.
The other morning she got up in my face (that's her way) and made sure our eyes were looking at each other, and she said, "oatmeal, Mommy?" and so I made her some oatmeal (just plain oats cooked in water with a sprinkling of cinnamon) and when I started to put it in a regular white bowl, she said, "No, mama. A dipprent bowl." (her f's sound like p's)
She wanted a different bowl, her yellow bowl.
She asks for "NahNip" or "NaaaNap"- if I'm caught sitting down anytime anywhere she mistakenly sees that as an open invitation to come feed. She would totally nurse all day long if I let her.
I don't really think about it, not in the way that I think "look at me, I'm so awesome, I am still nursing my baby/child." But I do feel happy about it; I don't desire to stop nursing any time soon.
I have had horrible allergy issues lately and was advised not to take certain medications because they could cause my milk to dry up. And some would see this is a perfect opportunity to finish and be done with it. And I'll be honest the thought did cross my mind for a nanosecond. But I know she is not ready to wean, and (although I am looking forward to having my body back all to myself completely), I am in this season with both feet and all my body. And heart and mind. (And sometimes really worn out breasts.)
As sure as I look out my window and see autumn smiling back at me, I know well how the seasons visit and depart all too soon. However, if you really stop and get to know them and breathe deep in... they can be such polite guests- arriving on time, and, always knowing when to leave.