Another change in pace. I honestly just have to get this out somewhere, and here is as good a place as any since it's really only my family that ever reads this.
Teddy has weaned. Mom really wanted me to wean him before we went to Portugal, but I wasn't going to force it on him. After he turned a year old I quit pumping at work. And I quit feeding him overnight. So sometimes I was only feeding him twice a day. Sometimes more, but never more than maybe 3-4 times per day. I knew that my supply had dropped off pretty significantly.
Then earlier this week he got sick. And he was really congested. And last Friday morning he didn't really nurse. Not for very long. And Friday night he screamed when he tried to latch. It just happened so fast. Like Thursday was fine, normal. He was happy to nurse, grabbing at my boob and shoving it in his mouth.
I knew that my supply was dwindling. And I knew that he never really preferred the bottle or the boob (was always happy for milk in any form, from anyone). But for some reason I thought it would be slower. I was prepared. I was expecting him to nurse for shorter sessions for awhile or something like that, not just stop cold turkey.
Then on Sunday I noticed he had two fever blisters under his tongue. Which is probably why he was crying when he latched. My milk was drying up even faster, and I was so, so sad about it. Nursing Teddy has truly been one of the greatest joys of motherhood for me. It was something I wanted so bad and fought so hard to protect our nursing relationship. And was so proud of us for making it to a whole year.
Monday morning I felt like giving it a go again. He latched, and even though I had probably almost no milk left, he happily nursed for probably 10 minutes or more. And I just sat there. Trying to soak it in. To sear into my brain the image of his little face, blonde hair, playing with his hands and my shirt, in what had been his happy and safe place since the day he was born. And I just tried to enjoy it. To remember it. To be present to it.
And I offered Monday afternoon and Monday night, but he was done. Not even pretending to nurse. He'd rather have his sippy cup with milk now.
And I know that I'm leaving for Portugal soon. And when I made the decision not to force him to wean, I prayed that things would work out as they were supposed to. And I have faith that they have. But I am still sad. So, so sad. And grateful. So very grateful. Grateful for the time I had with him, grateful that the Universe gave me that one last nursing session, and so very happy to be his Mom.
Teddy has weaned. Mom really wanted me to wean him before we went to Portugal, but I wasn't going to force it on him. After he turned a year old I quit pumping at work. And I quit feeding him overnight. So sometimes I was only feeding him twice a day. Sometimes more, but never more than maybe 3-4 times per day. I knew that my supply had dropped off pretty significantly.
Then earlier this week he got sick. And he was really congested. And last Friday morning he didn't really nurse. Not for very long. And Friday night he screamed when he tried to latch. It just happened so fast. Like Thursday was fine, normal. He was happy to nurse, grabbing at my boob and shoving it in his mouth.
I knew that my supply was dwindling. And I knew that he never really preferred the bottle or the boob (was always happy for milk in any form, from anyone). But for some reason I thought it would be slower. I was prepared. I was expecting him to nurse for shorter sessions for awhile or something like that, not just stop cold turkey.
Then on Sunday I noticed he had two fever blisters under his tongue. Which is probably why he was crying when he latched. My milk was drying up even faster, and I was so, so sad about it. Nursing Teddy has truly been one of the greatest joys of motherhood for me. It was something I wanted so bad and fought so hard to protect our nursing relationship. And was so proud of us for making it to a whole year.
Monday morning I felt like giving it a go again. He latched, and even though I had probably almost no milk left, he happily nursed for probably 10 minutes or more. And I just sat there. Trying to soak it in. To sear into my brain the image of his little face, blonde hair, playing with his hands and my shirt, in what had been his happy and safe place since the day he was born. And I just tried to enjoy it. To remember it. To be present to it.
And I offered Monday afternoon and Monday night, but he was done. Not even pretending to nurse. He'd rather have his sippy cup with milk now.
And I know that I'm leaving for Portugal soon. And when I made the decision not to force him to wean, I prayed that things would work out as they were supposed to. And I have faith that they have. But I am still sad. So, so sad. And grateful. So very grateful. Grateful for the time I had with him, grateful that the Universe gave me that one last nursing session, and so very happy to be his Mom.
1 comment:
Just read this Kristen. It brought tears to my eyes. I am sad for you and grateful for you too. Love you so much!
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