Now of course, I wish that I could have breast fed until he was one, I really do. But I couldn't. He was starting to teeth. And let's just say that there was a part of my body (2 of them) which I am fond of, that was starting to resemble hamburger meat. I could not be a chew toy and survive emotionally. So, I weaned him slowly, until I was down to one feeding a day. I had also “furberized” him
(definition:let him cry himself to sleep for a few days
whilst hating myself for being so cruel to inflict that kind of torture on him
even though I knew that he was (A) full, (B) changed, (C) burped and (D)
tired beyond belief... oh and (E) that I was so flippin tired, if I held him any longer he was in danger of being dropped or smooshed by me...with each minute of crying feeling like an eternity, each second wondering if he might have some life-threatening illness that I might be ignoring, causing him to die in his crib, etc...*)
...SOOO he was not eating at night any more. I thought that giving up that last feeding would be death. That I would A.) get a breast infection from being engorged. B.) Be devastated at not having that “bonding time” anymore, and C.) Feel like crap...oh and D.) My baby would not be healthy, happy, or normal. Soooo, I was surprised that none of the above happened! I did not get a breast infection, unlike with my other two kids. I was not devastated because, guess what- I still got to feed him a bunch, and it still makes me feel happy to see him drinking a bottle. I don't feel like crap. My body has healed...hallelujah! And according to the doctor...he is THRIVING! Yeah. Okay, there were a few downsides to weaning, that I had forgotten about. Number one- my period. 'Nough said...YUCK! Number two- I am shedding! Why does a nursing mother get to have thick shiny hair while the bottle feeding mom gets thin stringy hair? (God's wrath maybe??) Don't get it, but I am vacuuming up giant hairballs of mine..YUCK again! Number three-No more eating like a pig without gaining a pound. Yep, I am now eating for only one again, and so...portion control. On the upside- I like sex again. And, the kids can feed him, which they love. And I can go to the Jazz game this weekend and not have to pump in the gross bathroom because I am engorged! AND I get to eat whatever I want and not worry about some spicy Indian or Middle Eastern dish keeping him up all night. Yeah! Plus, I feel happy...priceless. So, it was not in the cards for me to nurse this guy till he was one. But you know what- he's happy, I'm happy, so it's “all good”! Oh, and as a side note, his pediatrician said “You know, babies like this don't come around often” (speaking about what a good-natured, happy baby he is) AND he said “You notice how his toes have a propensity to turn inward? Well, most Olympic sprinters have the same stance.” So, I'm not saying that Garrett is going to be wildly successful in life as well as an Olympic hero...but you never know!
*of course, now his face (yes- admission: I lay him to sleep on his stomach) hits the crib sheet and he is out in 30 seconds or less...so DEFINITELY worth the few nights of torturous hell.