End of an era
Endings are funny: they can be expected or unexpected, painful or happy, quick or slow — and all manner of in between.
Welcome to Nourish, a free monthly(ish) newsletter to help you be kinder to yourself and others. I'm Erin Strybis, a writer, mama, bookworm and believer. In your May 2024 issue: marking a milestone, ideas for smoother mornings and a gorgeous song that’s sure to lift your mood (scroll all the way to end!).
Dear reader,
It’s the night before Easter 2024.
My toddler sits on my lap in the rocking chair with a bowl of cereal perched atop his knees. Each time he scoops Rice Krispies, the bowl wobbles, a mess ready to be made. I sigh and set aside our book.
“Adam honey, be careful not to spill your bedtime snack,” I warn, adjusting the bowl. “Now, let’s get back to the story.”
We’re finishing My Milk Will Go, Our Love Will Grow, a children’s book about weaning we’ve read a dozen times in preparation for this moment. Tonight, after two years of breastfeeding and finishing a six-week weaning plan, I will nurse Adam to sleep one last time.
My hands shake as I open the book and find our place. The dread and anticipation swirling in my gut reminds me how I felt approaching college graduation. I adored Valpo and I was done being a student; I was excited to earn a paycheck and the prospect of a new life made me nauseous. The future was a dream. The future was terrifying.
Now, years later, I sit with my toddler, poised for another ending. Am I ready for this change? Is Adam ready? He was getting far too big for this rocking chair, and far too busy to be tied down by nursing. What's more, I had begun feeling tapped out whenever Adam wanted to nurse. For the majority of our relationship I loved breastfeeding him; recently, I'd grown eager to have my time and body back.
My Milk Will Go, Our Love Will Grow handles weaning with sensitivity to mothers’ and children's perspectives, which I really appreciate. I begin reading Adam a section of the book in which the mother helps her toddler understand how their days at home will shift without nursing:
The toddler asks: “And if I’m scared or sad?”
The mother replies: “Then I will hold you tight. I’ll look into your eyes and things will be alright.”
I relate to the little boy in the book so much: I’m scared and sad this ending has finally arrived. Yet, in the same way he can turn to his mother in the story, I can look to God to guide me through this transition. I watch Adam digest these lines, remembering the many times I’ve comforted him with nursing.
Back when Adam was a newborn, I breastfed him multiple times a day in this same chair with the aid of my trusty Boppy, then swaddled and rocked him to bed. As the months passed, his body grew bigger and longer, eventually giving us no need for a Boppy. After Adam turned one, breastfeeding became less a source of nourishment and more a means of connecting.
My son furrows his brow. I mentioned to him earlier that tonight is his last “milky time,” his name for breastfeeding. I’m not sure it’s sunk in. For over two years, I nursed him through teething, illnesses, sleep regressions. In that time, Adam learned how to roll, crawl, eat solids, walk and speak. Nursing is the greatest source of love he’s ever known — that will change soon. A couple pages later, I read, “I love you,” then I kiss his golden crown.
He looks up at me with his ocean blue eyes and says, “I love you, Mama.”
My eyes widen. “Did you just say, ‘I love you,’ Adam?” My heart swells with pride and I give him another kiss, this time on his cheek. “Thank you buddy,” I whisper, blinking back warm tears. It’s the first time he’s ever told me that.
The six weeks we spent preparing for this transition haven't been easy, but hearing these words is an affirmation, a sign from God the timing is right.
Endings are funny: they can be expected or unexpected, painful or happy, quick or slow — and all manner of in between. To fight or ignore the inevitable can be a sign we may need to soften our hearts to God's will. To embrace an ending is a sacred choice, for it takes faith and courage to face the unknown.
I gently close the book, turn out the lights and cradle a sleepy Adam across my lap. “Adam,” I say, moving him toward my breast. “This will be our last milky time, okay?” He nods and turns toward me. While he feeds I lean back in the rocking chair, close my eyes and let go.
How many minutes have I spent in this chair, nursing Adam? Surely thousands.
How many minutes will I spend caring for him before he leaves the comfort of our home? I hope we have thousands upon thousands more to go.
I feel a hand jostle my shoulder and see I’ve fallen asleep in the rocking chair with a sleeping Adam at my breast. I nod to my husband, who closes the nursery door. Carefully I unlatch Adam and kiss his forehead. Then I place him in his crib and tuck his fleece blanket over his body. I tiptoe across the room, creak open the door and step into the warm light of the foyer. I take one last look at my sleeping babe and smile.
There is a mini bottle of champagne waiting for me in the refrigerator. Tomorrow, after my first nursing-free bedtime, I’ll crack it open and toast.
NOURISH YOURSELF
When my oldest son Jack was a toddler, I had an EXTENSIVE morning routine that included writing for an hour before he rose, singing to Jack when he woke and as he brushed his teeth, school drop-off and my work commute. Nowadays, I have two kids, no job to commute to and no semblance of routine. Instead, I have a handful of tricks I employ for smoother mornings:
Rethink morning meals: Lately, I’m craving savory foods at the start of the day, but there’s little time to cook as we rush to get out the door to school. Enter: Dinner for breakfast. Eating dinner leftovers for breakfast is filling, quick and cuts back on food waste. My favorites include baked salmon with rice, beef chili and these delicious oven-baked drumsticks.
Just add music: Earlier this month, when Jack was in a bad mood one morning, I asked him if he’d like to hear a song to energize him for the day. Once I started blasting “Pump Up the Jams” on Spotify, Jack was giggling and moving through his routine with a grin.
Visualize your day: I recently moved my planner and to-do list from my desk into the kitchen, right in front of the coffee maker. Looking at my appointments and outstanding tasks as I load dishes or sip coffee sets me up for a more productive day.
Show love: I always give both of my boys big morning hugs when they wake up. And, I also like to check in with my husband and ask him what he needs from me, a habit we learned from the Gottman Institute. I find when I approach my family from a loving state — and let’s be real, I’m not 100 percent perfect at this — facing the day is more manageable.
Your turn: Do you have a morning routine, or like me, do you embrace chaos? What tips do you have for an easier, kinder morning?
NOURISH OTHERS
The month of May is one in which we mark and anticipate change. Between graduations, the real estate market picking up, retirements and wedding season looming, we witness or participate in a myriad of transitions. Is someone you know marking a milestone? Maybe they are planning a move. Or, they’ve finally exited a toxic relationship. Perhaps they are preparing for college or their first job. How can you toast to your friend or family member as their life shifts? You might ask them how they’ll celebrate or suggest sharing a meal together. Can you text words of encouragement (e.g., “I’m proud of you for…”) or gift them a coffee card or mini bottle of bubbly? Be the kind of friend who cheers others and watch how it warms your heart.
NOURISHING WORDS
Current reads
Mother God by Teresa Kim Pecinovsky is a peaceful, comforting children’s book I keep near my nightstand. With beautiful illustrations and poetic phrasing, it explores Scripture’s feminine, motherly images for God.
Wild Embers by Nikita Gill is a poetry collection honoring the resilience of women. I’ve been bringing it with me everywhere; it’s accessible, empowering and perfect to dip into whenever I have a free moment.
Recent writing
The champion (a tribute)
A spring #goodlist (on Insta)
In my last issue of Nourish, I wrote to you about my precious peony bush, wondering whether or not it would flower in the time we have left in Chicago — both a literal question and a figurative nod to my writing life. To my great delight, five buds appeared on the bush, and just yesterday, two of those buds unfurled in the late May sun. Is this a good omen? I sure hope so, dear reader.
As summer draws near, may you, too, be startled by all that’s blooming within and around you.
Grace and peace,
Erin
Look up
Do you see the sunlight
Look up
There's flowers in your hair
Hold on
'Cause somebody loves you
You know trouble's always gonna be there
Don't let it bring you to your knees
Look up
“To embrace an ending is a sacred choice”—love love love that line!
Horray for embracing chaos!