Fifteen months ago, Owen was born. The first few moments of his life were scary. He wasn’t breathing and they had to work on him for a few minutes. Hearing him finally cry was one of the most relieving sounds in the world. As soon as he was cleaned up and I could hold him, I nursed him for the first time.
It was funny, but certain things Owen just gets. He just instantly knows how to survive in the world, how to figure things out. So figuring out how to nurse was easy for him. He instantly got it and calmly ate for 20 minutes until the nurses cut him off to bring him to the nursery.
Those first few days were a blur, but Owen just ate and ate. I did things with a little baby attached that I never imagined, talked to doctors, ate my dinner, I even received Communion with Owen nursing away.
At times, I thought I would have to wean Owen abruptly. When his first GI told me I had to wean immediately, I cried and cried. I tried desperately to get Owen to take a bottle, but he wouldn’t have it. And my heart wasn’t in it. I knew it wasn’t the right time.
And honestly, time kind of slipped by me the last three months. All along, I’ve worked toward weaning him. I got him to take sippy cups and cut out one nursing session at a time. But it still snuck up on me the other day when I realized he was probably ready to be weaned completely. I promised myself I would make sure he nursed for a year and then I would look for signs that he was ready to stop to make it easier on both of us.
It has been almost a week since he nursed for the last time. The funny thing is that I didn’t even realize when I was nursing him for the last time. There were no tears and no sad goodbyes. It was like any other time. I nursed him until he was drowsy with his little hand clutching my finger and put him to sleep.
The next couple of nursing sessions, I just experimented, I gave him a cup to see if he would mind. And he didn’t. He just took his little cup and drank in my arms and went to sleep the normal way. There were no tears (except for mine one time), it just kind of happened.
It feels weird to be getting my body back. Almost exactly two years ago I got pregnant with Owen. So for the last two years he has been relying on me, not just as his mom, but as his source of comfort and food. And now although he still relies on me, it’s a little different. And that’s not a bad thing; it’s just him growing up.