It's one of the most bittersweet parts of motherhood, I think. To me, it means the end of his infancy. He's no longer a tiny baby boy; rather, he's grown into this little guy with a personality. He doesn't need his mama to provide for him in that very special way anymore. I sorta feel like this is my way of letting him grow up.
Why are we stopping? Well...it's just time. For both of us. But mostly me, which is why I'm riddled with guilt over it. With Brooke, weaning was a fast process, brought on by some new teeth that were just wreaking havoc on my body. And it was painful for both of us; she hated/refused bottles and I had to endure the unfortunate experience of going cold turkey and waiting for my body to realize it wasn't a milk factory anymore. And it definitely wasn't the way or the time I wanted it to end. This time, weaning has gone exactly as planned and on my schedule. It's been a very slow process, dropping one feeding at a time for about 2 months now. Joe is completely used to and accepting of bottles and formula. So it should be relatively painless for both of us. Except for the guilt.
Why so much guilt? Well...I feel like I'm just giving up. There really isn't a great reason to stop. No, scratch that. There isn't a need to stop; I've got plenty of great (as trivial as they may be) reasons.
I won't be tied to a feeding schedule anymore. I'm no longer the only one that can feed him. I can be away from him longer than 3 or 4 hours without having to rush home to a starving baby. Essentially, I can start to get some more time to myself, which will lead to a much happier and healthy mama. And I'll get my body back. I'm beyond excited to wear real bras again and for my Girls to be one consistent size the whole day. And oh good heavens am I eager to not have to sleep in a bra anymore! (If any of my brothers still read this blog on occasion, you're welcome.)
Oh yeah, and the peanut butter and alcohol aren't bad consolation prizes either. You better believe I'll have more than my fair share of both this week. Especially the peanut butter. My diet has been 100% peanut-free since the day Joe was born just in case he has his sister's allergies. Not a single PB&J, one of my most most favorite foods, since September, you guys. I even had to live through Reese's Egg season watching everyone else around me devour those little delights without taking one little bite. That's love, Joe. (p.s. I have two packages of Reese's eggs waiting for me in the pantry with a "Husband, if you touch these I will stab you" sign on them as we speak.)
See? Plenty of good reasons. Not to mention the fact that I have no interest in being on the cover of Time anytime soon. (I had originally only hoped to go for 10 months, so I'm really just about 6 weeks shy of that goal.) I just have to get over this nagging feeling.
Besides, he really doesn't need me after all. He has moved on to new dairy sources.
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