Last week Abby turned 8 months old. It seems that the past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of milestones.
She is changing so rapidly – far too fast. At least that’s how I feel when all of a sudden she’s mobile, eating 3 meals a day and sleeping through the night.
There are moments when I wish to put time on slo-mo, although I know that sensibly, it would be weird. It’s just that in addition to each of these developments, we’ve finished breastfeeding.
Much like the way my son Wyndham weaned himself at 9 months (yes, it does happen), Abby has too. Only slightly earlier. Some of you may recall that I’ve been taking Domperidone to help increase my supply after weeks of trying everything else. From herbal remedies, to feeding on demand and lots of pumping.
Unfortunately, my body just decided to stop making milk. It seemed as if Abby intuitively knew – because she lost interest at the exact same time. It was all kind of painless really, except for that fact that not being able to breastfeed exclusively, to not have great, overflowing milk-bags of nurturing gold – has been a struggle I’ve fought within myself with both of my babies. Overall, I know I’ve done everything I can and am doing the best I can.
I’d be lying if it didn’t break my heart a little. Although I’ve struggled with breastfeeding, we had hit a sweet spot of nursing and supplementing. I wish I could have continued to breastfeed longer, plain and simple. At least until she was a year…I didn’t dare dream of being able to until she reached 24 months.
It’s actually been over a week now, that Abby hasn’t breastfed – this post was started and left unfinished in the cue until I had more time to accept the way things are, dust myself off and be thankful for what we have. The things I CAN do as a mother.
The memories of her sweetly curved into the crook of my arm as she nursed when she was wee, or laying across my body as she got bigger, chubby legs draped or dangling, hands and arms either grasping or limp or playfully swinging. Her eyes bright with alert joy, or drowsy with a full belly. Those memories shall have to be enough to curve the deep feeling of inadequacy I have, however irrational they are.
More on the Babbles …