Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The End of an Era
This whole breastfeeding thing, it didn't come to us easily. As I might have mentioned. From the world's clumsiest latch to hatred of one side to full-fledged strikes, the only things in our favor were a ridiculous supply and my single-minded, bordering-on-pathological determination to make it work. We were going to be successful. WE WERE. (did I say bordering on? ....anyway)
But when it clicked, it clicked. It took probably five months, but when we got there, it was just the easiest, most natural thing in the world. For Grace, it went from the worst torture to the greatest comfort. And for me, I went from counting the days until I could quit with a clear conscience to panicking when I realized we were almost done.
And we're there. I didn't want to nurse her past a year, and I still know it's the right choice to stop now. But ohhhhhhh. I'm sad. I'm sad about the whole weaning process, and I'm sad about being done and never having that same relationship again. I am absolutely dreading the first time she makes it clear that is what she wants, and I have to tell her no. I know that it will hardly be the last time I have to tell her no, but there's something about THIS. I remember once watching a patient grabbing for his father's hand, and his father backed away and put his hand in his pocket. When I think about weaning, that's how I feel. She's looking for physical comfort from me, and I'm telling her no.
I look back on all my insanity, the ridiculous lengths I went to, getting her back in the groove with this, the time I've spent with the dreaded pump, the frustration and the stress, and now the thought of taking it all away, and I still don't regret a second of it. I wouldn't change a thing. Except maybe I'd have her wake up tomorrow and hate nursing. That would be pretty freaking awesome.