Wednesday, October 21, 2009

7 Days, 11 hours and 30 minutes.

Since the last time Olive nursed. But who's counting, right?

Oh yeah, me.

It all started with my departure to the sunny state of Arizona last Wednesday. I had a feeling it would be the end to our breastfeeding adventure, but it still kind of caught me by surprise. Just like that *snaps fingers*, it's over.  No tears were shed; well, not by Olive any way. I may or may not have shed a few. Or cried while rocking her before her nap realizing that she doesn't need me anymore. She is fully thriving toddler, not my itty bitty baby who depends on me for every little thing.

Yes, I could offer and push it on her and I am sure she would pick it right back up. But I've decided not to. The past 16 months have been amazing, but I am taking my cues from her and moving on.

My heart hurts.

And so do my breasts to be honest.

Given time, they will both heal. And I will always have the memories of all of our time together nursing.

And I can stop wearing nursing bras. Which, I think, most people in my life will agree, is a good thing.

But for right now, I am going to take my hurting heart and breasts and go cuddle my baby. Because no matter how big or old she gets or what kind of milk she drinks, she will always be my baby. 


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