The end of an era

Warning: This post is all about breastfeeding. If reading about breastfeeding makes you uncomfortable, well, don't read this. And if you got to this page because you Googled "breast", you need to get out more.

It seems that I am no longer a nursing mother. Which I suppose means that I'm not allowed to eat pints of ice cream for dinner anymore. Or rather, I'm allowed to...but not without weighty consequences.

I've been slowly cutting back on nursing, following Zachary's cues as he's become less interested. We were down to 3-4 times a day when both Zachary and I got sick. He caught a cold (which made nursing difficult for him because he couldn't breathe through his nose) and I got mastitis (which made life difficult for me because OUCH! It hurts! And I have a fever! And I'm sore all over! And I feel like crap!).

Since this is my 10th case of mastitis, my doctor wanted me to come in so she could give me a trophy for breaking the office record for mastitis masochism (apparently, no one else is crazy enough to continue BFing after getting more than one or two cases of mastitis). Either that, or she wanted to see if it's possible that I really have mastitis again. Turns out that yes, I do, and my doc said that I probably got this particular case due to the weaning. Although Zachary and I were on the same page with the whole thing, my body hadn't gotten the memo. My doc prescribed me some meds and warned me that I would probably get at least one more case as we wean completely. Oh good, something to look forward to!

Newly armed with my meds, I continued to try to nurse Zachary. He, however, wanted nothing to do with it. His way of letting me know was very clear and succinct: he bit me. Not a "I'll nurse for a little while and then experiment with my teeth" thing...he was very deliberate. "Boob? Bite!" I've continued to try nursing him at our normal times (4x/day) for four days, and each time he takes a look and then takes a bite. So I think this is the end.

I've been worried about how I would wean him. I didn't want to withhold nursing from him when he wanted it. I wasn't sure how we would manage the mornings without bringing him into bed to nurse while stealing a few more minutes of sleep. I didn't know if it would be hard to put him to sleep without our nightly bath-boob-book-bed routine.

This way, it's much easier. He decided on his own that he's done, so we don't have to soothe him or try to come up with a replacement. He's happy as can be, and I'm dealing with the engorgement and associated potential for clogged ducts and mastitis while I'm already on meds for my existing case of mastitis. I was planning to wean him at around 12 months anyway, and I have enough frozen milk to keep him supplied at least that long. It really couldn't be a better situation.

Even so, this is a strange time for me. Zachary and I had a really hard time getting started with BFing, but we stuck it out and were able to make it over the hurdles. I went through times when I felt resentful of having to nurse him so frequently, of not having the freedom to leave him for more than an hour at a time, of not feeling like my body belonged to me anymore. I couldn't eat dairy for months because he was sensitive to it, and I still haven't touched peanut butter since he had a mild reaction. And of course, I've had 10 cases of mastitis.

But overall, I've enjoyed this special time with him so much. I'm in awe of the fact that this body of mine has nurtured him so well. I cherish the intimacy that we've shared 4-12 times per day every day for almost 11 months. I'm honored that he found such comfort in nursing, that it was a sure-fire way to calm him down when he was upset. And I smile when I think about his desperate attempts to latch on to any part of me (including my nose, my chin, my stomach, my elbow...).

I will miss this.