Mother's Milk

Last night while I was feeding Little Aiden I had a full blown realization that this will be the last child I will be breast feeding and I cried.
It wasn't a sad nor a happy cry, but a cry of acceptance.  You know, where only tears fall, no sounds are made and in the moment  you accept that it is what it is.

And the imagery of Imbolc is not lost on me. For those of you who may not be familiar with the wheel of the year it is a time of year traditionally associated with the onset of lactation of ewes, soon to give birth to the spring lambs.
It continues to remember the returning of the sun and the quickening of Spring.

I already know what my private gift will be to give.
I just need to figure out the prayer to say.

Maybe as soon as the dry wall guy finishes patching the closet some quiet reflection can open my ears so that I can hear her whisper.