Weaning: The End of an Era

It's been over 48 hours, and I'm calling it: after 1,367 days, my milkies are officially retired. 

I was afraid we wouldn't make it past the first 3 weeks, but we survived thrush, teething, night feedings...  And then there was a new baby - learning to nurse a newborn while in the same room with her still-nursing sister.  Learning why God gave us two? 

3 years 8 months and 26 days of interrupted nights so I could nourish and comfort and bond with my babies.  Countless sour looks and tilted heads when I answered "Yes, we're still nursing" as the weeks and months and years ticked by...as if I were doing something wrong, something unnatural.  The early days when it was ridiculous for me to not be giving them bottles full of rice cereal at 3 months, completely wrong for me to not feed them purees from jars at 4 months, just weird for me to give them whole pieces of banana and avocado at 6 months...I've been feeding them all wrong from the get go.  "Just give them a bottle, it'll be easier."  "They'll sleep better if you'll stop breastfeeding and give them a bottle with cereal."  "They're too old to still be nursing, Natalie." 

I did what I thought was the best.  I do every day.  I wake up every day and make the best choices I can in the hopes that I'm making a good start, a good life for them.  It's been time to end this, but I needed, for myself and for Cora, to make it to Cora's second birthday.  I also had to find a way to cut them off near that date without it becoming "Cora turned 2 and the milkies went away," because Geneva is serious about her milkies and I could honestly see that becoming a therapy talking-point in her later years if I screwed this up.  We've been talking for a few months about how milkies are only for little babies, and when babies grow bigger, the milkies dry up and go way. So when we were driving home Wednesday evening, and I told them that the milkies were almost all gone, they didn't freak out.  That night, we nursed before bed as usual, and I told them that was the last time.  The next morning, they asked, but didn't fight me when I gently told them no and redirected them.  Same at bedtime last night, and again this morning.  I was out tonight when they went to bed, but G was still awake when I got home - she asked me to lay with her, but didn't ask for milkies.  This is a huge positive and it makes my heart so happy - I've dreaded and delayed this because of my fear of how the transition would go.  Once again, my kids are better than I give them credit for - they understand when we talk to them, and if we don't give them room for argument, they don't argue.  Well.  Sometimes. 

This has been such a huge part of my life for so long; I'm sad that it's over, but only because it's always sad for me when chapters close.  It's exciting too - maybe now the girls will start sleeping through the night and we can get some actual sleep and not be zombies all the time!  But also, the girls are growing up, and that's so exciting - they're such neat little people, and I just love watching them turn into the awesome people they're going to be.  And I'll always be so grateful and proud of my amazing body - I didn't just grow them inside me and bring them into this world, I nourished them and kept them alive, too.  That's miraculous.  I got to be an active part in two miracles.  That's a pretty good feeling. 

Getting to the end.

Geneva didn't ask for milkies this morning.

There is absolutely no reason I should feel melancholy about this.  But here I am, all wistful and a little sad.

I know she's not done, that tomorrow will be back to the status quo and I'll be annoyed and wish she would just wean herself already.

But one day she will be done, and she will wean herself, and I will miss all those times for all those years when it was just sweet bonding.

Parenting is so confusing.

3 weeks 2 days - Babies are hard.

We were getting along swimmingly, and then I think she gave my nipples the thrush.  Suddenly my right nipple felt like it was being pierced when she ate - I've cried a lot in the last few days.  And then her latch got lazy - she only wants the top half, thank you very much, you can keep that bottom part.  Except that's excruciating.  So we're relearning our nursing manners.  I've cried a lot in the last few days. 

It's overwhelming that I'm the only one who can feed her.  I feel like I'm with her every second of every day and that I never get a break.  I remind myself that a baby is what I wanted, and that this is part of what it means to have a baby.  I look into her sweet face and count my blessings again - but I'm so tired.  Two of the last three nights have been really rough (have I mentioned how much I've cried?).  Thankfully, she seems to know right when I've hit my limit, and she magically goes to sleep - for 3 or 4 hours.  So she's working me.  I get that now.  She's training me.  It's rough training, man.

Jimi tries to help, but I understand why he says he feels helpless, useless - there's just not a lot he can do.  I think he's sick of fetching me water and snacks, and I feel guilty every time I ask for another favor, but I'm stuck where I am, you know?  I try to get him to change as many diapers as possible, not to pass off the task, but so he can get some face time in with his daughter - of course, she hates having her diaper changed, so in his mind she's starting to associate him with horrible things, like a cold hooha.  And some nights nothing will console her but a nipple, and his don't fit the bill - and I get jealous as hell watching him over on the couch, able to get up and move around all nimbly pimbly whenever he likes.  I squash down my feelings of resentment - it's not his fault he can't feed her. 


I wonder how we'll ever get on enough of a schedule for me to go back to work in 4 weeks.  I wonder how I'll ever manage to leave her in the care of someone else for 9 hours a day.  This mom shit is serious bidness, yo.