Not long ago, June said goodbye to nursing.

This was the 6th baby I’ve weaned, so it wasn’t too shocking to me. My body stops producing a lot of milk around the baby’s first birthday and my babies have each let me know — in subtle and not-so-subtle ways — that nursing was no longer as compelling as other food sources. : )

I’m not a very sentimental person. My sister said she think my brain works like a man’s, more practical and problem-solving. And I think she’s right. But I felt very emotional when I realized June was giving up on nursing. (I’m starting to cry right this minute as I think about it.)

I kept trying to really pay attention during those last few nursing sessions — not knowing which would be the final one. I watched her little curling fingers and felt her little tummy against mine. I kept thinking I should ask Ben Blair to take a picture so I would have a record of it — but then I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt the sweet moment. (Dang! I wish I had a photo.)

It’s hard to imagine I won’t nurse a baby again. So strange. And the funny thing is, nursing isn’t even something I adore. I’ve nursed all my babies, but if I hadn’t been able to, I don’t think I would have minded much at all. I guess that’s why I’ve been thrown off by this emotional reaction to weaning June.

Maybe it’s something about feeling like it’s the end of an era for me.

What do you think? What is weaning like for you?

P.S. — I snapped these photos of June on her first birthday, right after we cleaned all the lemon tart from her hair.