All Good Things Must Come to an End

That is a saying, right? "All good things must come to an end"?

This post was going to be a eulogy for My Nursing Bra. She lived a full life... She was always supportive...

But, as I sit to write, I feel that I am going in a different direction. Here is where I'm at-

I have to stop nursing Max. My goal was to breastfeed him for a full year. Lucy quit on me before she reached 10 months- she was far too busy and independent to be bothered with nursing, so we bought formula until she turned one and then she drank whole milk. But, times have changed, and I made my goal in an effort to not spend $100+ each month on formula- well, that and the fact that "breast is best" for baby, yada yada.

I reached my goal last week-the one year mark-so it is now time to wrap up this party! My Nursing Bra is to be laid to rest in the trash can (she wasn't pretty in her final days, let me tell ya'!), I am anxious to buy some sassy new bras, I want to get dressed without first considering the easy-access-to-boobs factor, and I want my body back!

In addition, Max has seven teeth, and all 7 have bit me a handful of times, once waking Devon from his sleep with, "OUCH! OUCH! PLEASE LOOK AND TELL ME THAT MY NIPPLE IS STILL ATTACHED!" (yes, I nurse Max back to sleep at night. Aren't I accommodating?).

Also, the kid is huge. I must look like a hippy (no offense to hippies) with such a large child in my arms, his legs hanging off to the side, breastfeeding. Good thing that he is bald. His lack of hair makes him a bit more baby-ish, in my opinion, so that perhaps I don't look like the president of La Leche League (no offense of the president of La Leche League).

Yet, there is a YET. Yet, when my Lover Boy is tired and fussy, he climbs onto my lap and tugs at my shirt, desperate to get it off (Men! Right?!) (Just kidding, Dev), and when I ask "Ninny ninny num nums?" (that is our pathetic little code for "want some milk?" and typing it out just made me blush. Oh well, I'm going with it!) he giggles and claps and is overcome with anticipation. He begins to eat (which really isn't eating, now that he has 7 teeth and can actually chew and crunch), and his eyes roll back into his head and he is soooooooooo happy.

There is something completely satisfying about making my baby sooooooooooo happy.

I suppose I am learning that weaning from breastfeeding is a process for baby and for mommy.

Last night I left our family circus to go to the grocery store, but first I handed Devon a bottle of whole milk and our pajama-clad Bubs. A quick look of delight filled Devon's face, and whether he realized it or not, it was the first time that he would hold Max and feed him like a baby, from a bottle. I've been such a hog, keeping all of the feedings to myself! I don't actually feel guilty about not giving Max bottles, but I do feel kinda good about the transition which will allow Devon to take an equal part in nourishing our boy with milk.

So, cheers to weaning, and to new bras :)

Me & my babies yesterday at the Grand Opening of Stroller Strides in our neighborhood.

It was so cold that Lu & Max were both crying by the end of class :(The warm bath that followed :)