Wean him and Weep

D-Boy is 17 months now. He’s a climber. A runner. A little dude with energy. I think it’s time.

I think.

But now that I’ve decided to wean my sweet little boy from breastfeeing, I find myself weeping over it. I was folding laundry this morning, and came across a few 6 month sized onsies and I felt this lump rise in my throat.  The tears filled my eyes, blurring the tiny red trucks and trains I was now inhaling. My heart is aching over this choice I’m making.

I know we’ve had a good run. It just makes me feel sad to let this go.

He’s growing up so quickly. Suddenly, saying words without being prompted. Jumping with both feet in the air. Telling me when his diaper is soiled. Asking me for a car ride. Trying to put on his own shoes. Helping me empty the dishwasher. Teasing his big sister. Ordering our dog around. It’s a beautiful evolution… and I’m so proud, even though it’s taking us farther away from his infancy. I know I just want to hold on to my baby boy.

He’s more demanding about my breasts now. Pushing my shirt up, my bra down. He’s developing a very strong will. He’s attached. And I love that. I don’t mind him going to my breasts for comfort. I’m just starting to sense that it’s going to be more difficult for him to wean as time passes. So, we’re starting.

Plus, I also want to have my body back, fully, to myself. Since, February of 2006 (WHEW!!) I’ve been either nursing or pregnant. 4 years. Wow. I also weaned Girl-E at 17 months. So, on some level, I feel it’s the right time. “Nursed them both until 17 months”, you know?

So, I recently stopped the night time feedings.  We were in a hazy loop of sleep deprivation. The pattern went something like this…

D-Boy wakes between midnight and 1:30am.

We bring him into our bed.

He calms quickly as soon as he gets my tender nip in his mouth. Most attempts to unlatch result in a sudden waking, which means, “Whaaaaaaaaa!!”, for him AND me. So, I cave. Back on the breast. Need sleep to be horizontal, head on my pillow, body on my mattress, snug under the covers. Inhale deep… he smells so goooood.

But. I was exhausted. I can’t really sleep with my nipple is in his mouth. Especially when I twist and lean myself over him so he can reach the other breast, so I don’t have to flip us both on the other side. Just too much trouble at 3:17am, you know?  Lazy.  Now my back is hurting all the time. I was sleep hungry.  Always. Always tirrrred.

We worked on a new plan for night-time. Meaning, he stays in his crib. Needs to sleep in his own bed.

So, we alternated, my husband and I, going to his room at night when he woke. Making ourselves comfortable on his bedroom floor, next to his crib. Encouraing him to go back to sleep. NOT taking him out. There was crying. But not hysterics. A few weeks later, he was sleeping through the night.

Ah. Sleeeeep.

I was still tired… cause DAMN that took a lot of work.  BUT, I’m not sleeping resting with my shirt hiked up to my collar bone, chilled, nipple stretched, back twisted, and stealthily planning my next unlatch, only to start over again when I slip the nip. Ay-yay-yay.

So,  I thought the “sleep in your crib” battle was behind us, but has for some reason (maybe teething?), resurfaced over the last three nights. I spent the better part of last night this early morning (from 3:15-5:15am) on his floor with his giant sized, though soft, Winne the Pooh under my head. I love Pooh, but I like my bed better. No offense, honey bear.

What does all of this have to do with weaning D-boy? I don’t know. I’m just spilling.

So, this is my plan. I’m going to journal about weaning us from the breastfeeding experience. See if I can glean some insight from my notes.

Wish me luck, strength and a nice long nap.