So today (this morning), I nursed my son for the last time. It’s been almost indescribably difficult for both of us today. For Jonah because he LOVES to nurse, and for me because I am emotionally and physically programmed to breastfeed my baby son several times a day.
He’s 15 1/2 months old now, so most people are like, “you’re STILL nursing him?” to which I can’t help but squirm a bit uncomfortably. I feel sorry for mothers who nurse till their kids are 2 or 3 because American society really looks down on that, it seems.
Right now I hurt so bad, and I’d give almost anything to take him in my arms and let him drink to his heart’s content. So why wean?
Because he’s getting to be a big toddler-ish kid who eats all kinds of food, so he doesn’t need my milk nutritionally any more.
Because it’s been hot as hell and humid and I’m all sticky and sweaty with a sticky & sweaty baby hanging off me. add to that the fact that whenever he nurses on one breast, he’ll take his hand and tweak the other nipple, twisting and wrenching and patting and playing with it until I want to scream.
Because i want my body back. I don’t want to be my son’s personal gymnasium anymore. After two years, I would love for my hormones to settle completely back into some sort of normalcy.
See? I have lots of reasons. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s incredibly hard to stop. My doctor promises it only takes 4 days or so to get a baby used to not nursing. I hope those days go by fast!
Wow, did this bring back memories! I am completely and thoroughly out of my #%*-&$ mind, because I nursed my ‘high needs’ child until he was 2 1/2. And yes, he too would ‘warm up’ the other side; twisting and ‘tweeping’ my nipple like the volume knob on a radio until I honestly felt like punching him in the face. (So much for ‘Mother of the Year’ award! I didn’t want to write a speech and have NOTHING to wear, anyway…..) I was constantly on ‘touch overload’. I used the last few months I was nursing to take advantage of that extra 500 calorie a day burn, lost 100 pounds, and you know what made me feel the most ‘normal’? Carrying a purse again. Not a diaper bag, a PURSE. That was MINE. No baby crap, no diapers, just girly stuff galore. Ahhhhh, those were the days……… Thank you for triggering the memory.
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