*This post will be about the task of weaning Caleb. If reading about nursing bothers you at all, then please skip this post, though it will by no means include anything of a graphic nature.
When I started my nursing journey with Caleb, we were both novices. I remember at the hospital after I had him, he didn't really show a ton of interest, and I worried about it, but that it is fairly normal when newborns first come into the world. Once we came home, he was fine, and we happily went on to nurse every day. I never once pumped, and he never used a bottle.
I figured we'd nurse at least until he was one year, which is what is recommended, and after that, some time he would magically decide he was done, and we would move on. That never happened, and then I kept reading articles about the benefits of nursing until 2 years of age (which, apparently, is done more in other countries than in the US), so I figured we'd keep pressing on if he didn't give it up. However, once I got pregnant, the whole process began to be very painful for me, and it became a huge sacrifice on my end.
We just finished wrapping up our nursing journey at 2 years, 2 1/2 months old. But if it were up to Caleb, he'd still be nursing.
We had it down to one session first thing in the morning, and one more right before bedtime. Each and every other session had naturally phased out on its own, but those two were the ones to hold on tight, and I knew they weren't going to go away as easily. For months, I figured I would need Brian home in the summer to help me distract Caleb, at least with the morning session, and that's exactly what happened.
This past Thursday was the last day I nursed him as usual. Friday morning, Brian, instead of me, took Caleb out of his crib, and instead of bringing him to our room, took him to the living room and brought up the cat to distract him. (Yes, we keep the cat-creature downstairs at night, because we don't trust the beast. He will jump on the counters, and I cannot live like that.) It seemed to do the trick. I hung back for a little while, and he didn't seem to miss me or the nursing, so all seemed fine.
Nighttime was another story. It is quite difficult to distract Caleb at night, because, after all, he is only going to bed. Caleb started to see things were different in his routine before we even got to the nursing time, and he began to be visibly upset. I kissed him and left the room so that Brian could put him down without me present, which I thought would help matters. It didn't. He was upset, crying, and looking around for me. My heart was breaking in the kitchen, and it was THE FIRST TIME I NEVER LAID HIM DOWN FOR BED. Yes, you read that correctly. I always laid him down because Brian held him for stories and I nursed him and put him down. That's simply how it was.
That night, he woke up whimpering in his sleep, something he only very rarely does, and he woke up during his nap the next day and would not go back to sleep until I came in to stroke his forehead. So rare are these things, that I wondered if these were the repercussions.
Fast forward to yesterday. We still skipped the morning session, and he was fine. But at night, it was a scene. As soon as we had gotten him dressed and sat down for stories, he was agitated. He was refused to settle in and look at the books as he normally does, and he was slapping himself in the head. It was clear he was remembering the night before when I walked out on him. I decided then that I would stay the entire time and lay him down myself, but without the nursing. Perhaps he needed to see that I wasn't abandoning him.
We continued with the stories as best we could with our agitated boy, and when the time came, Brian handed him to me, and we walked over to the crib. Caleb was crying and very upset. We started to sing our goodnight song to Caleb, but I couldn't continue and left Brian to take over for me, and I began to sob right alongside Caleb. As I held him cheek to cheek, and my tears bathed his face, he started to calm down. I whispered "I love you" over and over, and his agony gradually subsided. I laid him down in his crib, with some more tender words and soft touches, and Brian and I were able to leave the room peacefully, as usual.
When we came out to the living room, Brian held me while I sobbed. It was so heart-wrenching! I never wanted to force it on him; I had always hoped that weaning would happen when he decided he had had enough, Since that day never came, and here I am with only four weeks left to go in this pregnancy, we had to decide that enough was enough.
Last night, he woke up whimpering twice in his sleep. I listened to every sound over the monitor, but let him be. He eventually fell back asleep on his own.
I wanted to give myself a little time to recover before I start nursing Baby #2, and for Caleb to have some time to adjust before he sees me nursing Baby #2. Some mommies nurse two children at once, and I even have diagrams in some of my baby books that show how you can do so. I knew it would be too much for me, however. It is a drain on a mother's body with a ton of nutrients going out to her baby as it is, and I felt like it was time.
It hurt, though, so much, to see Caleb "suffer" so. Of course, this day had to come. But it doesn't make it any easier. To a toddler, it is a big deal. People so carelessly toss comments into the air such as, "Oh, it will be good for him" or "He'll get over it." Of course he will. Duh. That doesn't mean, however, that it isn't a significant event in his life, and one that does cause him pain initially.
I don't know how it will go tonight. Perhaps he'll be fine. Perhaps he will be upset again. Either way, I will be there to hold him and kiss his face, telling him I love him.
