I Quit Nursing: Today Marks the Day I will Never Nurse Again.
I quit nursing. Finished. I am officially finished bearing children and nursing those children during their first year of life. My womanly parts are closed to offspring and nurturing them through substance. I will never be pregnant again and I will never nurse a child from this day forth.
How do I feel? Very conflicted. I am overjoyed that my body is once again my own. (Well, that is questionable for a variety of reasons…ha-ha!) I am excited that I don’t have to worry about what foods I put into my body that may make my son gassy or may keep him up all night. I no longer have to wake up all hours of the night as the only food source in the home. (Thankfully my darling son has been sleeping through the night anyway.) I can go away for work or a girl’s weekend or away with my husband WITHOUT the pump! Oh dear goodness, I can SELL THE PUMP! (Or give it away. It has been a good and faithful breast pump for 3 years of use.) Those bottles in the fridge attached to breast shields, done! Worrying about ice packs and carrying gallons of breast milk through TSA? All finished! No more! My breastfeeding era is over. It has been a good 6+ years. A dedicated 6+ years. A long 6+ years.
So WHY is my heart breaking. Why am I sitting here typing with tears rolling down my face just thinking about it all being over. How did this happen so quickly? How is it possible that I have a 5 year old getting ready to start Kinder, a 3 year old that wants to join the swim team and a 10.5 month old that will walk any day? There is nothing more that I want to do than throw that breast pump in the trash and with a few grunts, screams, and hallelujahs, but at the same time, jump back into the trash can and savor these times of babyhood. My boys are growing up. We are quickly leaving “baby stage”. My boys are growing up. (Maybe if I keep repeating it to myself, it will sink in.) 2016 marked the year of my last birth and 2017 of my last nursing son.
My goal was 12 months for my last wee-one. My first born was cut-off on his 1st birthday. Happy Birthday — no more boob for you! (Judge as you may, I was damn proud of my 12 months!) I knew I would have more children, so there wasn’t much emotional dismay to weaning him. (And when we started sitting on my lap and pulling down my shirt and reaching to pull out my boob, I knew it was time to QUIT!) My second son was a horrible nurser. Distracted, a biter (OUCH!), and had better things to do than nurse. (He walked at 8 months, 3 days. He was running and climbing by 9 months. OUT.OF.CONTROL!) I quit nursing him at 10 months/3 weeks before I became bitter. (Who am I kidding, I was bitter by 9-10 months after being bitten 100 times!) My last babes though was an excellent nurser from the start. A champion nurser. Although, he was a biter for a short period of time, we quickly cured him of his biting ways. I never quite had the supply that I had with the first two (Bessy the cow was my nickname when nursing Billy and Aidan), but I had enough and my chunky baby was growing by leaps and bounds. Roughly two weeks ago I got a virus from hell and my already dwindling supply vanished off the face of the earth. GONE! The question that I asked myself for two weeks: do I work to get it back or let this be a gift for easy weaning. No cabbage leaves needed, no hot showers, or smearing peppermint all over trying to take the engorgement pain away. Do I consider this quitting? Did I quit nursing or was it just time? It was with a heavy heart, but a confident one, that I decided this was the end. I didn’t quit. I let nature take control. The End.
(But will I still have my Boob Shelf? Don’t know what I am talking about? Click on the link for some laughs.)
Would it have been easier to wean my last child if he would have been 12 months? Probably not. I have asked myself this whole first year if I would even feel so determined to wean at 12 months like I did with Billy or if I would keep nursing well into the 2nd year of life. I can play out this scenario and that scenario in my head all day and all night, only to make myself absolutely crazy. It doesn’t change the fact that as of today, I will never nurse again. And although it’s a big change from the past 6+ years of my life, a new stage of life is on the horizon. The big-boy stage! Walking, climbing all over furniture, organized sports, and swallowing steaks whole. #momofboys #allboys #heavenhelpme
I have been so very blessed to stay home with these kiddos while bringing home the bacon. Wait, did she say bacon. (And my tummy rolls…to the tune of some Garth Brooks.) Want to know what I do? Check out my VIP group page on the FB: Gab and Glitter Lips