Guest blogger Dani Klein: "He really likes milk now!" my babysitter said, handing me my 1-year-old after an afternoon of meetings outside the house.

"He just drank a whole bottle!"

"Great," I thought, my engorged breasts pressing against my nursing bra.

And so it begins. My baby is done with me. First it's cow's milk, then college, then he's married. My work here is obviously done.

A little dramatic perhaps, but the sadness around weaning is something I don't hear enough about. Maybe it's 'cause no one else feels it, but more than likely it's because the experience feels private and reluctance to do it feels a little shameful. Shouldn't it be every mother's desire that her baby grow and become independent and stop sucking on her "booby," as my 5-year-old calls it?

It's not like I want him to breastfeed until he's 30, but as the weaning process begins I find myself becoming a little sad and defensive.

"Maybe he just doesn't like the taste anymore," my husband said to me this morning when Gideon was acting fussy, "I mean--now that he's had real milk," he added.

Doesn't like the taste? "Real" milk? Why is cow's milk any more real than mine? And what does he mean, not like the taste?

"I taste delicious!" I want to shout back. But even in my crazed mommy haze that doesn't sound right. I have no idea what my milk tastes like. But the idea of Gideon not liking it anymore makes me sad. If and when that is true, I will miss breastfeeding very much. Specifically, the sanctity of the experience; the ferocity of my baby's desire for me and how for those 10 minutes or so, nothing else matters but filling his tummy.

Dani Klein is the mom of two boys, and the creator/producer of Afterbirth...Stories You Won't Read in Parents Magazine.