Weaning is a topic that seems to be coming up more and more these days. Apparently, everyone and their dog thinks they have a right to comment on my boobs. Seriously...there are some very judgemental poodles out there. (Insert laugh here.)
My son will be 11 months old this week, which means continued breastfeeding solidifies my status as a freak of nature in American society. I'm sure I catch more flack than the average bear, because of my giganto baby who looks like a pre-schooler. Regardless, I think this negativity and judgement is horse crap.
There is no magic date circled on my calendar. We will wean, when our family sees fit.
All this talk of weaning has got me thinking though. I know the day will come eventually. Probably sooner than later. I'm confident that, despite the ups and downs, the process will be much harder on me than on my adaptable, little son. So, I wanted to jot some things down about our breastfeeding relationship, to ensure that it doesn't all get lost in the abyss that is my post-pregnancy brain.
I'd be lying if I said this has been a walk in the park for us. (Remember this post?)
There have been a million times that I have wanted to throw in the proverbial towel. Nipple Shields, Clogged ducts, Botched Breast Biopsies, Repeated bouts of mastitis, Too much milk, Too little milk, Engorgement, Walking around with cabbage leaves sticking out of my bra, you name it! However, I think all the difficulties made the success we eventually achieved that much sweeter.
A little more Candor: A lot of times nursing has been, dare I say it, downright boring. This was especially the case in the beginning; when he latched on like a remora and didn't let go for 6 months. In those days, when marathon nursing sessions were typical, there were less "magical" moments and more dvr watching and Facebook status updating.
But like a lot of things, when nursing is good, it's really, really good.
I want to remember:
- The initial frenzy of sucking...like a crazed, underfed piranha. And how it gradually dies down to give way to slow, steady breaths as he succumbs to sleep.
- The almost comical positions he is able to contort himself into while still remaining latched on.
- Catching a glimpse of his eyes, when he briefly peeps them open, to check that I'm still there.
- Hearing his sweet, contented murmurs. He always sounds like he is trying to whisper sweet nothings to his dearest boobs. His first, and perhaps most adorable love affair.
- Feeling his chubby little hand knead away like a kitten, or simply resting open palmed on my chest.
- Tucking a feathery soft, blond, baby tendril back behind his tiny ear.
- Feeling the weight of his heavy little head in the crook of my arm.
- The tiny half smiles he shoots me, when his bloated little tummy is finally full.
- Lastly, the shared (I think) feeling we have during some nursing sessions....that all is right with the world. Right with ourselves. Right with each other. Right with God and creation. Absolute oneness. Safety. Relaxation. Warmth. Tranquility. Happiness.