I just nursed Cormac to sleep, as usual, and went downstairs to get Clara. Jed takes her outside every night to pen up the chickens and they had just come inside. He was sitting in his recliner snuggling her and watching TV. So I asked her, “Ready to go night night?”
She looked at me.
“Want to nurse?” She responded with, “Night, night,” then put her head on his chest. He tried to put her down so she would walk to me. She cried and wanted him to hold her.
So I went back upstairs alone. This is the first bedtime refusal.
She nursed twice today. Cormac nursed three times. She asks to nurse every time we are in the shower and I say no, but that’s the only active refusal I’m doing at the moment. Cormac gets frustrated in the evenings and I have to distract him for a little while until it’s bedtime, but all in all, it’s not too hard at the moment. They are steadily weaning.
This shocked me though. And of course, it hurt my feelings. A lot of my feelings about myself as a mother are based in my ability to provide nature’s perfect food for my children. I’m dealing with that. I know weaning is inevitable. I’m certain it’s the best thing for us to do right now, but it’s so hard. Every time that I get sad hearing about someone else weaning their babies (because I do)- I feel the same way about weaning my own.
It’s not forever. It’s a tiny part of my parenting. But I fought so hard to breastfeed that I can’t help but be sad in the autumn of our breastfeeding relationship.