It’s Over.

It’s over.  I guess I knew it was coming, but I’m sad nonetheless.  I was really hoping to give it a little more time but it has been made clear to me that I no longer have a say.  I’m done.

Breastfeeding.  JC has decided he’s done. I’m done.  And for all the wishing I could take aspirin again, I am sad.  He somehow heard the chimes of his 1st birthday ringing and decided it was over.  I have made offers to no avail.  Sure, I could be happy to relieve my migraines with fantastic medicine.  I could be glad to be rid of the breast pump I carried to work, or to overnight stays where I might be away for several hours.  I should be glad to use up all the frozen stores of milk taking up space in the freezer.  I should be celebrating with a beer (or several).  But I’m just not in the mood.  I’m feeling a bit sad. Nostalgic.  All of my kiddos nursed until 14 or 15 months.  JC has asserted his independence and caught me a bit off guard.  This probably won’t be the last time he does that.  I really assumed I was calling the shots and would be weaning him when I was ready.  No, I wasn’t planning to be feeding him during his kindergarten milk breaks, but I thought I at least had a few more months.

It’s not just that I was feeding him.  Breastfeeding is bonding time.  Quiet time.  It was the few moments in a day where I was forced to NOT do something, no multitasking.  I liked it.  Even when I complained that I can’t get everything for everyone else and nurse the baby at the same time (well, most of the time).  I will miss it.  This is the last baby, so this is really the last time.  My breasts have retired.  According to me, anyway.  Apparently my husband disagrees.