I wanted to stop, I decided to stop, I said I’m done… and told my son, we were done… NO More Milk.  The first day I woke and it was easy.  I escaped the house early not to disturb his sleep, and the ritual of the snuggle that we had indulged in for months.  I came home to a happy baby, who of course asked for milk, and I said, no milk baby.  He quickly went on his way playing with the Cookie Monster puppet.  I had eluded his first request, yeah!  The night came and my set of milk bottles began to ache… I didn’t think this was going to happen, I didn’t realize that I had enough milk to fill up… crap.  I know that if I pump they will keep producing, if there is no pumping then I’m in pain.  I stand at my bathroom sink and contemplate what other mommies have told me they have done… gently release.  AHHH  NO, just the thought of that is not right.  I wait a minute, the boobies are aching, I squeeze them a bit, ahhh relief.  I able to sleep!

The next morning he wakes early, teething.  OH NO!  Crying his big tears, with his little voice, milk mama, milk mama.  I have to leave, I run into the shower.  The day was long and challenging but we made it, by nightfall I’m plump like farm fresh watermelons!  Ouch.

Day three, I can do it, I can make this happen, but… my boobies are huge.  Pain.  My husband says, you can do it, he doesn’t need it, you are doing great.  He leaves for the gym.  I look at my son and ask him if he wants milk… the smile on his face tells more than words can express, and I hope that I never forget it!  We get ourselves situated up on the bed, I look at him and tell him that this is only a treat and that I need a little help, he smiles and lowers my shirt.  Quickly latches on, sip, sip, sip, releases, smiles, covers my breast, and says byeeee.  WHAT?  I think is that it?  I ask him if he wants any from the other side, he climbs up, lowers my shirt, latches, sip, sip, sip, covers and waves byeeee.  I smile.  Three sips, six total, that’s it?  I’m baffled but okay.   Now I know in my heart that he is indeed done, and I’m feeling good about our ending.  It’s a lot better than me saying this is it!  I’m sad, yes, but now feeling relief that he too seems to be done, and  is okay…

until next time.

I woke up this morning and told myself that on Friday, there would be NO more nursing.  No More Boobies… No more snuggle in the morning.  I yearn for my freedom, but right now as I sit here thinking about this, I get terribly sad.  This is it, I can’t go back on my word, can I?  No.

Until next time.

I have raging hormones now, and have had them for a couple of months.  I never thought that I would be the one who would breastfeed, let alone, be the one who would breastfeed for more than six months… here I am at nineteen months and I’m forcing myself to wean my son…  I don’t want to have my son, screaming MILK at 2 while he is running towards me reaching and grabbing at my boobies!

When I decided to breastfeed I was reluctant, I thought, Oh, no, not me… it’s not for me, at all!  Then I began to research all of the facts and decided that for nine months I would give it a try.  As soon as my son was born, an instinctual moment came, I placed him on my chest and he nuzzled toward the boob!  Unbelievable.  Now this was not a natural feeling, or was it very pleasant!  It hurt.  It hurt like hell!  I’m not going to lie about the pain, no one ever told me that it was going to hurt, or that it would be challenging; or that my little boobies would become engorged and so full of milk that I would have to pump them to keep the milk at bay.  NOPE.  I think when I was doing the research it all appeared to  be a natural thing, the little one popped out and started to nurse, and there were no problems.  THIS was not true for me.  He wasn’t quite savvy to the boob, it took time, hence the pump.  He took his time learning how to nurse, but once he figured it out, the game was on!

At a year my husband said, well we made it to a year, he has gained all the benefits of nursing, are you ready to wean him?  Automatically I thought to myself, NO, but deeper down inside I thought that I needed to at least wean him to twice a day, this three times a day is wreaking havoc on my hormones and my life.  Our journey to wean began at twelve months.  I got help from a professional.  Thank god!  She really helped me alleviate the night time feed, but then came the mid-day snuggle-nappy feed, oh no, I just can’t get rid of that one…  well yes it had to go too.  I stopped that at seventeen months.  Now, here I am at nineteen months, I’m sweating at night, I get hot flashes, and sleeping at night has become almost painful.  I say this because I think it’s my hormones that have kicked and said, enough… enough!  I have heard from my other mommy friends similar stories, yikes I have to stop, but how?  Nursing is like a drug.  I feel so connected and close to my son; it’s calming when I nurse.  Oh and I need to relax, let me tell you.

A game plan.  I need a game plan to stop; STOP the sweats, the insanity of being up all night, and the daily hot flashes.  I think part of my problem is that once I say goodbye to this last little gesture, I will be saying goodbye to my baby.  He is no longer a baby.  Which I know, and realize, but really he will be free.  I will be free.  There is something inside of me that has begun to mourn this closeness, and I’m sad.  I think I have to leave it at that…  Hmmm.

Until next time.