Weaned

Yesterday, after months, I didn’t feel tired. The past few months I’ve had brain fog and fatigue, instantly after my first cup of coffee. Everything made me tired. No matter how much coffee, food, or water, I was tired. I started weaning my daughter off of breastfeeding back in August, but let her have nursing time on and off during the day the past few months. Sometimes I desperately needed those nursing moments, so I could sit down and have a break. My entire motherhood, nursing my daughter were really my only breaks. So I figured my intense brain fog and fatigue was from putting my body on a rollercoaster of this half-weaning journey. 

Today, my daughter and I’s nursing journey has come to an end. I wouldn’t change our timeline for a thing. My breastmilk got us through the first five months of her life, served as an additional medicine for RSV, soothed colds, and bonded us when we were just getting to know each other. Now, we are the best of buds. The things we bond over have shifted. We laugh at silly words and phrases like “Cinnamon fart”. We chase each other around and giggle. She helps me making morning waffles. We listen to music together, and she sings the lyrics all day long. She is now her own, amazing human, and doesn’t need the thing that connected us in the beginning. And I, am giddy at having my own body back to myself (until we eventually do this all over again with a baby #2 someday). 

I wrote this when I had weaned my daughter off of her nightime nursing, and I thought it would be a great time to share now that we’re officially weaned:

When you first start, nothing feels right. You keep referring back to videos your doula sent of how to latch a newborn. You keep thinking you’re coming at it from the wrong angle, and somehow you are in your own way of feeding the baby. After you spend your first night in the hospital post birth, you hound the one lactation consultant they have. 

“Can she please come to our room?” You ask the receptionist desperately. Finally she comes by, but when my husband is gone, and can’t watch so he can help me readjust my breastfeeding form in the future. I tell her I’m not sure if the latch is right and she sets me up properly. My body is uptight; shoulders scrunched. My brand new baby in my arms, and me desperately not wanting to accidentally unlatch her because I would not know how to perfectly get her back on. I keep making small talk because her presence is comforting.

I told her I’m not even sure how to hold a newborn baby, I’ve never done it before. She doesn’t seem worried. I think she reminds me that with practice it’ll be second nature. For someone who likes to feel good at things immediately, practice wss not what I wanted to hear. 

As she left, I think I asked her if she could help me find the remote to the tv which she did. I can’t remember what I watched, though. I do remember I asked her to come back in a couple hours to check on our latch, and she did. 

With tons of replaying the latching video, FaceTiming my doula, and panics after pediatrician appointments scaring me away from breastfeeding solely, we got it together. Cordelia was indeed latching just fine, and I remember the appointment where we were told “Good job, she’s gaining weight!” Like it was yesterday. It felt like an A+ on a test.I had my baby girl on me every 2-3 hrs, sometimes every hour, to make sure she stayed nourished and hydrated.

 I remember the middle of the night feedings and the alarms I’d set so not to miss one. I remember the shows I’d watch so I wouldn’t fall asleep with her in my arms. And then it eventually got kind of easier, or maybe I just got used to her frequent feedings. Probably the ladder. We rarely had nights without feedings since she was born. But a few days ago we finally did. And she slept so well, and I’m so happy for her. And my body has been craving its physical freedom at night. I finally have it but I don’t feel the victory just yet.

I feel aimless, and out of sorts, which is different from how I felt postpartum. I feel anxious like I’m not doing day to day things in the right order, and I feel disconnected from myself. I feel sad and overwhelmed. Like all things that weigh heavy on me suddenly bury me. I feel sick, but like an uneasy sick. Like the sadness and loneliness that comes with being sick, but not the symptoms that make you cough ridden. I know this is temporary, and we’re almost out of weaning. But how crazy to think in the near future I might go through this all again. Will I remember how to latch with the next baby? Will it feel as special?