The threat of cessation, however, has put my whole nursing plan into immediate doubt. All along, I've had the idea that I'd nurse her until she was about 9 months old, weaning her onto formula in time for us to join Mr. Milkweed's family at the beach in August. I had visions of my newly svelte self lounging in the sand in a cute but modest one-piece (please, people-- let's be realistic), my sisters-in-law whispering that I might even be smaller than when I'd gotten pregnant. Last time we were at the beach, they were both wearing bikinis and I was lumbering around in a polka-dotted maternity bathing suit. This vision has been rather appealing to me, to say the least.
I think I've been vastly underestimating how much I value the nursing bond. August feels like it's just around the corner, and the idea that I might retire the Boppy in just a bit over two months is horrifying. It feels rushed and uncomfortable and about as outlandish as me frolicking through the sand this year in anything more revealing than a full-length caftan, or one of those kevlar jumpsuits they give to astronauts to wear over their Depends.
Don't get me wrong-- Eva hasn't been exclusively breastfed since three months. She's had formula, expressed breast milk, and a combination of the two in many, many bottles. While she had reflux, some of those bottles contained rice cereal. She ate cereal from a spoon at five months old, and to date she has also enjoyed sweet potatoes, oatmeal, and apples. Just yesterday we took out a mortgage to be able to afford one perfect, fair-trade mango, which she ate with much gusto and smacking of lips.
I'm revising the plan. At a year, I'll revisit the notion of weaning, perhaps, but until then I refuse to consider it. And if I happen to lose the fabled five or six "nursing pounds" around Christmas rather than this summer, I'll just be extra cute in holiday pictures. Because this, like so much else, can't really be about me at this point. Even if a small part of me longs to wear a bra without flip-tab access.
2 comments:
Oh man, I always fantasize about 5 or 6 pounds just dropping off when I finally stop nursing. Of course, I have been nursing now for, let's see, 5 years and 10 months. Oh, well, there was that four month break when Luke stopped nursing at the end of my pregnancy with Henry. I sure as heck wasn't losing weight at this point in the game. But anyway, I hear you on the weight fantasy. Your description of yourself "lumbering" around in your maternity suit made me laugh.
You know, I really did drop about 5 pounds when each kid hit 6 months old or so--perhaps this will be the case for you? And toddlers nursing really do use up a lot of mama calories.
Says the crazy, hippy lactivist. Who, of course, respects whatever choices you make with your own child. :)
OMG, it's so fun that you have a blogger blog now! I used to blog here exclusively, then started double-posting on myspace (and was kind of disappointed to realize that more people read it there--disappointed because this one feels so much more "me" and allows for more creative formatting). Wow, I feel like I just confessed all my dorkdom (or a chunk of it) in one comment. But anyway, my point is, welcome! I subscribed to you and promise to be a regular reader. Can I link to you?
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