02/16/2024
The last time I breastfed was March 13, 2020. Bijan weaned because Rosita home from school was too big a distraction. Six months later she wanted chichi time again, but it was too late for us. We both still miss it. So much. Among the things Bijan laments most from the pandemic, is the loss of chichi time.
I breastfed continuously for over ten years. A full decade, 1/4 of my life, my body fed the humans I made. It was beautiful, irritating, magical, mundane, and the most normal and powerful connection. Birthing at home and breastfeeding children who weaned on their own were powerful connections to my ancestors. Decolonizing my motherhood is a gift to my girls and abuelas.
Tonight I drove all over Long Beach collecting donated breastmilk for a friend's family member. The love and generosity showed by strangers never ceases to amaze me. With tears in my eyes, I drove from one new mama with extra milk to another, remembering the years I too donated so much milk. I made enough to easily feed giant twins, but only had one tiny baby at a time. Donating my breastmilk meant a lot to me.
At the last house I got to hold a most precious beautiful baby. My body responded to her scent and cooing. I swear I could pump breastmilk right now. But that time of my life is over. The glorious chapter of being a new mamá has been replaced by parenting a teenager and a spicy third grader. I will sleep well tonight thinking of generations of my abuelas who nourished us from their bodies, and this beautiful donated breastmilk.
