Lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s finally time to call it on the breastfeeding. I don’t know, I’m really waffling on this one. Right from the start, my plan was to nurse Theo for 9 months and we’ve made it.
I was munching on baby Theo’s juicy thighs, and I thought, “hey, well done me!” Pop the champagne and take a bow, I’m out.
Typically, this would be an easy decision to make (no more biting, no more yanking, no more violent spasms of pain!) and rationally, this feels like the right time to wean, but I just can’t shake off the feeling that I’ll regret it. It doesn’t make any sense.
A lot of things about motherhood don’t make sense, which explains why we second guess ourselves so much over all these parenting decisions. On the one hand, our heads tell us that these are the right choices, they make sense, and therefore we should do them. But why does it feel wrong, like my mommy spidersense is yelling for me to override my logical brain?
There are so many reasons why now a good time to wean: he’s a champ at eating solids, he’s taking the bottle well, and he’s been distracted lately, unlatching to smile and talk and play during feeds (so disruptive! but adorable!!).
Plus the recent episode at the hospital has acted as a sort of catalyst. There’s been a noticeable drop in milk production while he was on the IV drip, coupled with an engorgement/biting soreness situation going on that feels like a mother bear just slashed me in the boob with her claws. At first, I was determined to power through it, because I do not surrender to pain (ok, I got some painkillers and meds from the doctor – I surrender to pain very quickly all the time). I mean, if this happened earlier, I’d do whatever it takes to continue breastfeeding but at this point, maybe I should take it as a sign to stop.
I sort of made a mental decision to wean a few days ago (even went out to buy formula) and you know how when you decide on something and immediately feel that sinking feeling in your gut that tells you it’s the wrong call? That happened.
As I fed Theo knowing that it was nearing an end, I suddenly had a major craving for this to continue forever, to feel the weight of a baby in my arms, to look at his contented little face dozing off as he drank, to inhale his baby smell and stroke his chubby cheeks, urgh, I’m so predictable. What I know for sure is that I’ll miss it so very much when it’s over.
This is turning out to be a really hard call to make.