My Little Guy is Growing Up

Last week it finally happened. I stopped nursing Ducky. I knew it was coming, but I was really hoping to make it to six months this time. With Munchie I only lasted four and I was adamant about working harder at it. My body just didn’t want to cooperate.

I was under much more stress back then, and I thought a calmer, happier mommy this time around would increase milk production, or at the very least sustain it. With my first child I also had an uber breast pump that rivaled those used in the milk industry. I am very grateful to my friend who lent that to me, because without it, I may not have made it past the two months mark.

I don’t know exactly what caused the cessation this time. But it was sad. When I realized it would be my last time nursing Ducky, I cried. Long after he finished eating I held him. I know he will get all his vitamins and nutrients from formula, especially with how the formula industry has advanced in recent years. But it is not his nutrition I was mourning, but the bonding time that we had. Feeding time was mommy Ducky special time. I still cuddle and hold him, but it is just not the same.

A few nights ago I threw out the breast pump. It was a cheapy manual one that has weathered two kids. I figured it was not going to be in a box awaiting another. At that point we can just get a new one. As I dumped it along with its box and accessories, I cried again. Physically getting rid of it made the entire situation more definite. This is it. With this final act, I am never going to nurse my Duck again.

How did you feel when you weaned your little one?

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