A few weeks ago I thought we were weaning. Henry didn’t ask to nurse for a few days, I offered but he wasn’t interested, we were down to only nursing about once a day so I wasn’t surprised but I was sad. One day he did ask to nurse but got distracted by my sandwich “bite?”
I mourned the closing of this chapter, commiserated with some mama friends, and then that night Hen climbed up into my lap and asked “boob?”
I admit I was a little relieved. I know it’s silly, 20 months old with another on the way and not quite ready to let go of my baby.
So it was funny that last week I didn’t notice when Henry actually weaned at all. No tears, no sadness. I guess I got my mourning out of the way a few weeks ago. I admit that I had no desire to tandem nurse. I really am glad to be done, even if I don’t get my body back just yet.
People will say “well done” and “congrats on making it this far” and honestly it doesn’t feel like an accomplishment. Nursing and pumping full time for a full year, fighting low supply (most likely due to PCOS) every step of the way, that was an accomplishment! That was hard work and I’m exceedingly proud that I was able to hang in there and that my body cooperated, even if it did so kicking and screaming.
The last 8 months were easy, icing on the cake, and the most natural thing in the world. I’m so grateful that it was gentle, easy, and on Henry’s timeline.
I was a little worried that I wouldn’t know how to comfort Hen in this new post nursing world, but when he fell and bumped his head the other day he crawled into my lap and cried and we hugged and in a minute he felt better and toddled off to get his train, and I felt like we were done.