A Leaking Faucet: Weaning and Other Spills

Dear Friends,

What do you do when your baby shows signs of growing up? Signs you can't ignore? Signs you'd much rather push into the back of your mind and not think about. Signs that leave you as a squeaking, blithering, leaky faucet?

Signs like... say, weaning himself?

He's ONLY eighteen months old.

Do you see a problem with this?

My heart is screaming,

"He's not ready!"

"I'm not ready!"

"We're not ready!"

He's been a champion nurser. At ten pounds fourteen ounces, he was hungry from the moment he was born. I figured he would nurse 'til he was seven or eight... OK! Maybe two or three, but still!

He's only a baby! I guess I'm just sad that this stage is over. I'm disappointed he needs me that much less. I'm weepy at the thought of him moving past this milestone.

We were a team.

How would you like it if half of your team just stopped doing their part? Huh?

Imagine... You wake up one morning, go to nurse your son and he's suddenly forgotten everything he learned in the Suckling Instincts 101 class-womb.

How do you forget how to eat?

How could this happen?

Has anyone heard of this happening?

I mean, I can understand if you forget how to STOP eating! I have to take refresher courses on this all the time. But I always remember how to start again.

He was my nursing pro. He had countless hours of experience. And he literally woke up one day and had forgotten how to do it properly. I don't know what he's doing wrong but I do know it hurts like the dickens. Oh, and it sounds a lot like a sump-pump with a blown gasket.

I made that up.

I don't even know if sump-pumps have gaskets.

Let alone what sound they make.

Have you ever had to call your best breastfeeding advocate (in my case, my mom) to try to explain your 'problem' over the phone?

"Well, ummmm... it sounds kinda like ssssllllip---sssssrrrrrp*sssskkkkkggggpppppph*"

On the other hand, if you've been on the receiving end of one of these calls, I commend you. You are a super hero... and you have a much better appreciation for what mechanics feel like when frantic women (read: like me) call to tell them about the strange sounds coming from under the hood.

We could get into all kinds of strange metaphors here, couldn't we?

But we won't. Because telling you too much information about my bodily condition, emotional instability and general leakiness over this situation is enough. I wouldn't want to embarrass you, or anything.

I think I'll be okay. We'll move on. I'll rock him to sleep just to snatch some cuddle time. He'll nuzzle his little nose in my shirt and smile sleepily up at me. He's healthy, whole and beautiful.

I'm leaking again.

Mostly because he won't ever remember what this time of our lives was like. He won't remember 'nye-nye' with 'ma-ma'.

But I will.

Love,

A Puddle in NE