To say that I am dreading the end of nursing would be to put it mildly. It’s a necessary evil in my quest to do all I can to make sure that Margaret doesn’t end up an only child, but that does not make it easy. I love nursing, Margaret loves nursing, and if circumstances were otherwise I would happily nurse her until she gave it up on her own. This is not because my granola is crunchier than anyone else’s, it’s because nursing has just been so darn easy for us. It got especially easy once Margaret got big enough and coordinated enough that I could nurse her while lying down. At 2am, rolling over, unsnapping a side of your nursing bra and sleepily shoving a boob in the direction of your fussy child is a heck of a lot easier than getting up out of bed, trudging down to the kitchen and fixing a bottle of formula. The mind boggles at how formula makers ever managed to sell the stuff and more convenient. I am so not looking forward to Thursday night, but it’s not just the 2am factor. I am going to miss nursing for it’s own sake.
One of the best things about finally being a mother has been the moments we spend curled up with one another nursing. It’s funny how she’s changed since she was born. At first I had to position her carefully, and once in place she’d latch and suck for all she was worth. Now she’s more laid back, and will occasionally be playful, standing up on the futon next to me while she sucks, even dancing a little bit while still nursing. Nursing has also been a great tool. Most of the time, no matter what is wrong, a few seconds of nursing can solve whatever is bothering her. This has been particularly useful lately as our almost-walking girl is very prone to falling down and bumping her head. It’s also just so very pleasant, with the fuzzy warm head resting on my arm and the feel her body curled up against mine, and the sucking part is very pleasant. I guess I’m worried that she won’t want to snuggle as much now that she’s not getting the good stuff out of it. Right now I so enjoy having her snuggled up next to me in bed and falling asleep at the breast. It just won’t be the same come Thursday.
I also worry that Margaret will feel hurt by the change. Of course I will explain, but it’s rather doubtful that her current understanding of English is good enough for this to help much. I anticipate being met with furious demands for “meh meh MEH!” Yeah, sorry sweetness, as of Thursday afternoon ‘meh’ only comes in bottles. At least I have Friday off, so if Thursday is a sleepless night I won’t be quite a hosed. Still, I am anticipating it being a very long weekend indeed.