Four years, ten months, and nineteen days. 1783 days This is the amount of time that I breastfed three babies twins, and then one more and somehow, impossibly, nursed the twins through an entire pregnancy, and even for 5 days after welcoming my third baby into the world. When I say my body never quit, I mean it in the deepest sense. Closing this chapter feels profoundly bittersweet. I’m overflowing with gratitude for a body that carried life, nourished life, and showed up day after day when I was exhausted, touched out, emotional, and still giving. A body that adapted, endured, and did things I never imagined it could do. And still there’s a tenderness in knowing this is the last time. The last latch. The last middle-of-the-night feed. The last season of being someone’s source of comfort in this exact way. I didn’t know the ending would feel this heavy or this sacred. I am so deeply proud of my body. Proud of its strength, its resilience, and the quiet sacrifi...