Really.
It involves nursing (and subsequently weaning) a toddler. There's still time to click away.
OK . . . are you still here by choice?
OK then. Deep breath. Here I go.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that this blog started as - and still is - a way to express myself ... to work through my (sometimes) personal thoughts and struggles ... and to serve as therapy in a lot of ways.
That's hard (at times) when I consider that a lot of people that I know, in real life, are here.
Don't get me wrong - I love it that you are here - but there are some things that I edit out. And that seems ridiculous that I am willing to share with the unknown Internet and not my family and friends. It's something that I know my husband struggles with. While he might appreciate that our courtship is recorded for all eternity? He doesn't appreciate that some of the nitty-gritties are recorded for ya'll to flip through. I know that my Mom doesn't get it. And even the mention of Facebook can send my almost 93 year-old Gram into heart palpitations. She hates it. She hates the very idea of over-sharing. And really . . . isn't that the basis of blogging, Facebook, etc? Over-sharing. What a way to make our mark as a generation.
So, all that being said, I am not self-editing tonight. This is me. My heart. My emotions. Whether you like them. Or not. (So again, click away from here if you are starting to get sweaty or judgemental. Or both.)
A little background . . .
I have nursed both of my babies. It was easier with Dylan. Odd, given that he was my first and that I was so much younger. With Halle, I struggled to get through those first couple of months. And I mean struggled . . . as evidenced here and here. And as the author? I can tell you that I was editing the horror that was nursing at the time. It was almost impossibly hard for us! But we made it. And Halle grew and developed and finally got it. And my clogged ducts got better and I stopped swearing every time she latched on. Sooner or later, anyway.
And then we kept going. And going. And going.
Dylan, by the way, weaned himself at about 8 months. It was way more fun for him to have a bottle and be able to look around and keep busy, all while sucking down eight ounces. Halle, on the other hand, started refusing bottles at 3 months and wouldn't ever take one again. Stinker.
So at about 11 months, she started to slow down on nursing. She gave up the just-before-bed session and I figured that we were just about all done.
Um. No. I t didn't turn out quite like that.
Instead, she keep nursing. She took that evening nursing and added it right back into her routine and that was that. I was officially nursing a 12 month old. And then a 13 month old. Then a 14 month old. Then we started tracking her unexplained fevers. Which she was getting every 21 days. And nursing was all that soothed and nourished her during those 3-5 stints every three weeks.
Do you get the picture?
Again, a little more history is warranted.
I am a big believer in nursing. If you can do it. And if it works for you. I'm not militant about it in the slightest. But I felt like it was the right thing to do for me and for my two babies.
Yet I never once considered nursing a toddler.
It just wasn't for me. (Insert maniacal laughter here.)
And then along came Miss Halle.
So folks, here's the scoop:
My daughter was potty-trained before she was weaned.
Yep. So much for never nursing a toddler, eh?
It's not that I think it's wrong. Or gross. Or subversive. Or even the slightest bit sexual.
I have just never been overly comfortable with it. Until now.
Now I understand that some little ones have a different sense of connection/nutrition. I understand that it was just a part of who Halle and I are, and how I've chosen to parent her.
I understand that having a toddler be able to communicate with you that they want milk, is not the end of the world.
And more than anything, I understand that it just worked for us.
Nursing, however, recently stopped working for us. I knew I was ready to wean her. Over 12 months of seemingly endless visits to the gynecologist, lab draws and fluctuating hormones convinced me of that.
What sealed the deal was talking to several moms who also struggled to get (1) their energy, (2) their body, (3) their brain, (4) their sex drive and, for lack of a better term, (5) their mojo back. And who felt/saw a huge shift after finally weaning their little ones.
Then, after 15 months of ridiculously low (almost nonexistent) estrogen levels . . . my estrogen level spiked.
And Halle developed tiny little breast buds. (Which will fade away in a couple of months. In case you were worried.)
And that was it. No more.
The last night I really nursed her - crying over her in the rocking chair in her room - was June 26th. I nursed her a few more times, every few mornings or so, just to taper off.
But I count 6/26 as the real last time.
And I was am surprisingly emotional about it. It was the perfect opportunity to whisper sweet words and promises to her. To tell her that regardless of if Mommy can give her milk or not, that I will always do everything in my power to give her what she needs. To do what is best for her. To do all that I can for her to be strong and smart. To help her grow up to be an amazing woman. To be healthy. And OK. No matter what.
So a month later. I am still emotional about it. And that surprises me. I've had my feelings hurt a few times along the way . . . "it's about time you cut her off" or "just tell her no, she doesn't need it".
And I've wanted my husband/family/friends to understand a little more about why I am so weepy. So tired. So conflicted. To put themselves in my shoes when my baby girl screams incessantly for milk when I can't won't give it to her. And why that is so incredibly painful for me.
Yet I realize, in retrospect, that I've had the same thoughts for other women who are weaning their almost-two-year-olds. Just do it already.
So, more than ever, I'm thankful for the Internet. It can be my friend, in the middle of the night, on a subject that some of my IRL friends and family just want to bow out of.
So this post? It's really not for you. It's not even for me.
It's for "the Internet". Because if even one Mom stumbles across this while searching "weaning toddler" in the middle-of-the-night, while crying uncontrollably? Then its all worth it.
So for those of you who still don't get it? That's OK too. Just move along. Nothing to see here.
At least there won't be, once I stop this incessant leaking. Seriously. Enough already.
* And for those of you who just can't look away? I did press on a ridiculously hard knot in my left boob the other night while laying in bed. And shot myself in the eye with milk. Which was overwhelmingly funny to me at the moment. Still is, actually :)
