I like to think you gain some comfort from the thunderous sound of our hearbeats right against your ear, remembering the bliss of those timeless, floating days before the knowledge of bodily concerns like hunger, or cold, or streaming sinuses.

And just like that, we are weaned. Exactly two weeks ago tonight, you nursed for the last time. And, as with so many things as they come to an end, I didn't know it would be the last time, so I didn't savour any of the details, didn't mark the occasion appropriately in my mind.