And where, pray tell, is my exuberance at this feat?
I thought all I wanted to be was free of nursing, especially after K's demands to nurse (and they did turn to very insistent demands) grew more infrequent and inconvenient. And if J and I were going to plan for baby #2, then the nursing would have to end as well. Which is why last Wednesday, while K and I were having grilled cheese and tomato soup at Nordstrom Cafe, I laid out the facts to her.
Me: Do you want to have a baby brother/sister with whom to play and terrorize?
Me: Mommy can only have baby if K stops nursing
K: (Gazing off into the distance)
Me: So we'll stop nursing from now on, Ok?
K: (Still gazing)
Me: (Starting to sweat profusely and getting nervous)
And believe it or not, K didn't demand to be nursed the entire day. And later that night, she came over to me, gave the o'le boobs a pat for good measure, giggled, and then cried on and off for about an hour until she fell asleep. I lay asleep crying far longer because the image of your first born looking at you with unhappy but trusting eyes does funny things to your emotions at 1am.
It's almost over. After 4 nights of no one in this household getting to sleep before midnight, K finally dozed off at 11pm. Which is how I came to race downstairs to record these thoughts and feelings before they pass. So much has been felt by mothers the world over with regard to this singular and miraculous bond between mother and child, exhilirating in its purity and strength. Any more I can say will surely sound trite.
Nursing K has been such a blessing. I can't count the numbers of prayers made on behalf of wanting K to latch, wanted more milk supply for K, wanting my boobs to just stop being sore for 2 seconds. And at the end of the road, K and I are so much more tightly wound together for it. (why did I add in this last bit?? you'd think i was writing an essay for college admissions. cheeeesy.)