I should've known when I saw the brilliant new Know Your Lemons breast awareness campaign (look it up if you haven't seen it) that my ladies would be front and center this week somehow.
(Warning: gentlemen, if any of you are reading, escape now. 'Cause there's about to be an ode to my lemons in this here post.)
The headline of the story: Little Man officially weaned. Or rather, we weaned together, he and I, and now we're one week out from nursing, and our time together (in that regard, ha) is done.
:(
The beginning of the end has been in sight for a few months as he's aged and grown in rambunctiousness and just gotten so darn busy. So when he had two days back-to-back last week where he was too distracted and/or in too much teething pain, I took it as my cue to force our joint closure.
And so we closed (shop, in case that's in any way unclear).
It was far more bittersweet this go-around, knowing my Ladies were entering permanent retirement (this being the last kiddo--God and husband, listen up).
And though Little Man was only nursing once a day for the past few months (first thing in the morning; occasionally at bedtime, if he was needy), it was also a harder process this go-around. No pain, at all, but certainly an awareness that the factory was shutting down, and I've definitely been through a bit of an emotional and hormonal ride this week.
But.
Insteading of mourning the end, I want to take a moment to give My Girls the beyond-honorable retirement send-off that they deserve. Though that will require more emotions and hormones, ha.
First I must say that I never expected to be such an ardent nursing mother. Primarily because I am all for whatever works best for any given mother and her family--be it nursing, formula, or any combo of the two.
But for whatever reason, I was stubborn as an ox about breastfeeding through some of the hardest newborn-era trials I faced.
The breast infections I powered through with both Chica and Chicklet remain, to this day, the greatest episodes of pain I've experienced in my life.
And the diet I adhered to during the milk-protein allergy stage of each of my girlies was second only to eating cardboard.
Why'd I power through? Who knows. Especially since I never really saw it as powering through. It was just what we were going to do. And it was the right decision for us.
Each of my babies nursed give or take a year (Little Man being the longest hold-out at nearly 16 months), weaned pretty naturally, and gave me some of the most precious moments of my life.
Nursing kept me from paying for formula or mixing bottles in the middle of the night or on the go, and it certainly kept me happier, releasing those lovely "happy" hormones with every feeding.
Again, this is not not not a post to promote breastfeeding and/or shame any other choice. This is just a post about my journey and my lemons, and the amazing ride we finished together.
It just didn't feel right closing out this chapter without giving a shout-out to My Girls.
So, Ladies, I salute you and your service. I wouldn't have had it any other way.
And may you now rest (somewhere near my navel) in peace.
TaTa
P.S. Bonus pics of beautiful, sleeping child for anybody who made it through the end of that drivel.
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