My face wet, my nose running, my vision blurred, I stumbled through the dark and out into the unforgiving yellow light of the hallway. A chill suddenly came over me, and I somehow made it to the closet and felt around blindly for a sweater.

“Honey?” my husband asked from the living room. “Honey are you okay?”

I managed to squeak out a sound, but I was far from okay. I was a mess; I felt empty. I had just completed the weaning process, and officially nursed my daughter for the last time.

My husband guided me to the sofa and held me while I sobbed. I sobbed for the end of an era, for the next step in my daughter’s journey of toddlerhood, for the memories of a daily physical connection with my firstborn. I felt like I’d blinked, and the first sixteen months of my daughter’s life had passed. This hollow feeling was another one of these secrets of motherhood no one tells you about.

I remember hearing things about labor and delivery – some horrific, others gross, still others just plain weird – when I was pregnant with my first child, and wondering why I hadn’t heard about them before. I felt like there were all these “secrets” about childbirth that no one told me about until it was upon me. Perhaps it’s the bliss of actually getting through the experience that blurs mothers’ memories, and makes them forget.

But I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sadness I felt after I finished that final nursing with my daughter. It’s not that she wasn’t ready – she certainly was, if not emotionally, certainly in terms of nutrition. And deep down, I think I was ready to wean. What I wasn’t ready for – and likely will never fully accept – is my daughter growing up. I know, it seems silly. She’s not going off to college, or even kindergarten. But she is becoming more independent by the day. And these days go so, so quickly.

So here’s a message to all the new moms out there: when you’re up in the middle of the night with your babe, or embarrassingly leaking milk, or writhing in discomfort because your body feels hopelessly uncomfortable, try to remember that these times don’t last forever. And at some point, you’re really going to miss them.