02.13.07
Big decisions and some guilt
After a lot of thought, both rational and completely emotional, I have decided to start weaning Leila. It is a big decision for me, perhaps bigger than it should be, but it is time.
I wanted to be the mother who nursed her child until the child weaned herself. I wanted to be an advocate for breastfeeding and all around perfect parenthood. I like how it feels to look at her chubby cheeks and know that the nourishment filling out that fat came from my body, that I provide her with life, still. But lately, the feedings have seemed. . . tiring. I have been trying to put them off, just five more minutes, and have popped her off a little too soon.
This weekend was fun, but tiring, too, because there was no back-up. And then yesterday was a horrible day, teething and cranky. Today was better, and I managed to escape to the hair salon and get a cut and colour and then even to the drug store to indulge in some new makeup. But there is something there. She nursed at nine this morning and then I left. And with her lunch she had some formula. I nursed her again at four thirty, and that break was so nice. Nice for so many reasons that are silly and small and for some reason I feel guilty about feeling that way.
It seems that everyone I know either has never breastfed or nursed their child for at least a year. So I feel kind of alone in my decision. Steve is supportive, and always has been. I think he was happy I decided to breastfeed and yet is completely supportive of my decision to wean. But there is this emotional attachment that he just has never understood, and never will. It is this connection that I do not think anyone but a nursing mother can fully comprehend. It is more, so much more than wanting to hang on to your baby for a little longer. There is a surge of love that comes when my milk lets down, there is a satisfaction that gurgles deep inside of me as I feel my breasts tingle and hear Leila start to gulp and swallow. There is sheer joy that comes with her little sighs and moans as her belly fills, as she cuddles in closer and mashes her face against me.
And yet, I want to be myself again. I want to be able to leave her with Steve without timing feedings. I want to wear bras that do not unsnap at the strap and shirts that do not have breast holes discreetly covered by more fabric. I do not want to be connected to her anymore, not at this level.
I cannot quite explain the horrible guilt that comes with this decision, and I am not sure why it is there. I look at her loving eyes and want to weep, because this past week there have been days when I thought I dont want her anymore. And those are scary thoughts. I have been googling and searching for stories of women who weaned their babies because it was time for them to stop, not because they were toddlers or because they were going back to work. I have been looking for the women who feel like they are losing themselves because of it.
Tomorrow, I am going to start supplementing a feeding with formula over lunch. I am not going to rush it, and I will see how I feel when I see my baby girl gulping down formula from a plastic nipple. But I think that I will be ok with it. After months of debating within myself and not saying anything to anyone about these thoughts, I really think that I am ok with it.
wunderwuman at 6:43 p.m.