I have never been a fan of breastfeeding, despite how much I advocate for it. I have always known that breast is best, and no matter how much I hated it, the idea of not breastfeeding just didn't enter my mind. We worked through bad latch, thrush, nursing strikes, pumping failures, and much frustration and tears, but we did it. I've put in my time, as they say.
Beaner is extremely verbal, and quite rational, as much as a 2 year old can be, so I was able to tell her that Mommy's "booboos" hurt and were broken and as such, we weren't going to be able to breastfeed before naptime. Instead, we created a special "napsnack" of cheese, veggie crackers, and cow's milk. She thought that was just marvelous and had no issues.
When nighttime came there was a slight resistance and a crease in the brow as she asked about my owies and if I'd seen a Dr. yet. When I told her no, I still had owies, she accepted it with no issue. Last night she whined some in her sleep, a first for her, and cried out for me, without ever really waking up. I had a long night checking on her, listening for her, waiting to cave on the breastfeeding. It didn't happen.
Today there was no issue because she didn't nap here, as she was with her grandpa for the afternoon, and at nighttime she didn't even ask. We're only on day two and I have no illusions that this is far too good and easy to be true, but I do know that the end of our breastfeeding experience is coming soon and that makes me relieved but it also makes me a little sad. Breastfeeding was the one connection her and I had that no one else in the world shared with us. Once that's gone...well, I just don't know. Gone will be the last shred of my sweet, dependent baby, and in her place will be the confident, little girl aching to spread her wings in this world.
Fly high, my dear, fly high.
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