I’ve been taking another step towards weaning – I cut out the night time nursies. So far it’s been a lot easier than I thought it would be – though the crying on the first night hurt my heart. She hammed it up for us a bit yeah, but she was mostly just genuinely sad. It was hard not to give in when I felt like I was betraying her or something – and that sounds melodramatic but then, I am. Seriously though, the LOOK she gave me was pure “OH MY GOD *WHAT* ARE YOU *SAYING*?! HOW CAN YOU?!”. So… accusing. Man. And… I mean… hhh. I hear people saying that you shouldn’t let your kids run you – and yeah man, for a lot of things I agree. Make the distinction between parent and friend, yes. Don’t let your kids guilt trip you. But… she’s nursed every day of her life, all her life, her entire life – the point being that to her, she’s nursed FOREVER. Never ever ever even ONCE replaced the breast with the bottle. Ever. It’s funny that it wasn’t worse – in a way I get the impression that she’s been waiting for it, that she knew it was coming. When I told her no boobie that first time I got the distinct sense that she was thinking “Oh no, ALREADY!?”
It’s funny how you just KNOW those little things about your kid, isn’t it? I never knew that until I had one. It really is so very intuitive, they are such a part of you.
Anyways it’s been ok, it takes a while to get her to relax – tonight it took an hour. I brush her teeth with her, then I change her diaper and make the bed, and we get a stack of books and read and read, and then we get to one of her favourites – right now it’s Fox In Socks by Dr. Seuss – and I tell her to lie down under the blankets and I read to her like that. Then I get up, turn out the light, make sure she has all her babies – right now she has a big pink pig that she won at the community Christmas party, a brontosaurus that Nana and Baba gave her for Christmas, and an elephant that her Gramma and Grampa sent her last week.
And then I sing. Sometimes I have to get up and leave because she won’t stop kicking around and goofing off, but I’m sure that will calm down the more she gets used to the routine. I kiss all her babies. I tickle her, I kiss her, I hug her, we breath each other’s breath and we make silly sounds and discuss the day and what we’ll do tomorrow (See Karen, Mama!?).
And then I say good night to her in the same singsongy way that my mother did, that I can STILL HEAR like she’s right there with me, and I leave.
And she calls for me. Of course she calls. But she doesn’t cry.
It really is ending. Just in time to start all over again.
I always wanted to breast feed, and I always wanted to do a whole year. Not a whole year AT LEAST – I just always thought a year was what was reccomended. Well. It’s been 2 years and 5 months (and one day). If I can get the naptime nursing over with in the next 3 months that gives me about 6 months of boob rest before the new baby arrives, and if THEY breastfeed as long as Éowyn has – and I see no reason why I wouldn’t want to yet, I loved breastfeeding and feel fortunate that the baby did too, and that I didn’t have to work around daycare and work to keep it up – if they nurse as long as SHE has I will have breast fed for FIVE years. With a 6 month break.
Five years. Goddamn. That’s something.