I remember when I saw my daughter smile for the first time. We were hanging out on the couch at home—her second week of life. She was sleeping, I was staring, and then it happened—she smiled this big, happy, sleepy smile. I got my phone out and held it in front of her face waiting for her to do it again. She magically did and I magically caught it on camera. I’m sure she was only passing gas or dreaming about her next marathon nursing session, but still—I just remember that moment so vividly as her ‘first smile.’ I can recall many of my children’s firsts. They were exhilarating! Watching my baby take her first steps was beyond exciting. Hearing ‘Mama’ or ‘I love you’ those first few times never got old. The ‘firsts’ are talked about and remembered and held on these high pedestals as congratulatory trophies we share with our children to celebrate a job well done in this journey together. But what about the lasts? The lasts sort of sneak into our lives—not necessarily unwanted, not totally unexpected—but very unprepared for. My friend recently told me about how her son wasn’t nursing as much anymore and with every time he did nurse, she wondered if it would be their last time.