Wean and Weep

Wean and weep.  That has been the natural progression of things since I began weaning Chloe.  If you had told me a year ago that I would be devastated to reach the end of our breastfeeding journey I would have called you crazy.  After all, being a breastfeeding and working mother also means you are a pumping mother.  And I think I have expressed here that pumping is no fun - no fun at all. 

I started mixing in two ounces of cow's milk into Chloe's cup twice a day beginning at eleven months just to get her started.  After her first birthday I knocked out the two pumping sessions I have slaved over at work for the past year.  It is nice to not have to worry about packing up the pump, disinfecting the parts, transporting the precious cargo, etc.  But after I quit I realized the silver lining to pumping at work was closing my door and taking the time to appreciate that I was doing something good - no, make that great - for my baby.  It was nice to take a forced break since I usually rarely even stop for a bathroom or lunch break.  And it became surprisingly second nature.  It was just another daily chore that I didn't especially love doing but did anyway like blow drying my hair or flossing my teeth. 

It was strange, though, because immediately after I quit pumping at work I found myself to be just... kind of sad.  The minute I got home from work I would feed Chloe, partly because I was about to explode and partly because I just couldn't wait to cuddle up with her.  Since that was causing her to be too full to eat a proper dinner, I had to quit that feeding session, too.  It seemed like with every feeding that I cut out I kept getting a little sadder.  Like the amount of milk I produced was an exact measure of the amount of happiness I felt inside.  Trust me, I know this sounds crazy to any person who hasn't been here before, but if you have been here before odds are that you are sobbing at your desk just reading this.

Two nights ago I cut out the night time feeding, and last night I secretly cried before I fell asleep.  I fed Chloe this morning and stared at her the entire time.  I love how she looks up at me and smiles.  I love how she is forced to cuddle with me for that short time.  I love that I can sooth her under any circumstance.  I love how happy I feel to know that even if I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time, I know that I'm doing the perfect thing at that moment. 

I decided to keep feeding her in the morning until I leave for Washington D.C. in two weeks.  I know it will be so sad to call it quits for good.  But I have said over and over that I don't want to be that lady at the playground with a toddler screaming "Nursy, nursy!!!" while tugging at my shirt.  I know that I have to quit before she begins to demand it and doesn't understand why I am refusing her. 

Also, I know that my hormones have a lot to blame for all of the sadness.  Many women don't develop postnatal depression until they begin weaning their babies.  How wonderful it is to receive those extra doses of natural oxytocin!  We should all be so lucky!  I know it will take some time for everything to settle, and in the meantime I will be replacing my old pumping sessions with a brisk walk at lunch to clear my head and help boost my energy.  And hopefully someday down the road I will have another baby with whom I will share that incredible bond.