Nursing the Baby Who Is Now a Toddler

Nursing the baby who is now a toddler 
And climbs all over me, insisting on changing sides every two seconds
Nursing the baby toddler
Before bed and first thing in the morning 
In the yard, in the woods, sitting in the leaves against a tree
It’s the only thing that makes him feel better so much of the time
MILK! he signs gleefully
When I pick him up from daycare practically pulling my shirt up
Sucking with all seven teeth
And his tongue partway out
Nursing in the backseat of the car
Or the front seat
Or a bus or an airplane or an airport bathroom or a restaurant bathroom
Nursing covertly, subtlety, or blatantly
With pillows, or holding him in my arms 
Kissing or sniffing his head or picking earwax out of his ear
Watching and feeling him fall asleep
Keeping myself awake
Sometimes falling asleep
Nursing when I don’t want to
Nursing when I must
Filling him up, soothing and healing him, I like to think, since I read breast milk produces antibodies to any germs 
Nursing though mastitis again and again
When I’m sick, when he’s sick
Nursing though all four seasons and doing it again now
Hearing him breathe and suck and relax
Holding his hand
My nipples covered in snot, sweat, saliva
My chest still belongs as much to him as to me for a little while longer.

— Leila H.