I weaned my Rosie girl last week. She was 16 months and three weeks old. That's almost three months longer than I nursed Maggie. I'd only been feeding her in the morning and at night, and then really only at night since the time change. Poor girl has to be woken up and loaded straight in the car every morning when we head out for carpool.
I've known it was coming. She's been growing out of babyhood for some time now, right under my nose. We were looking at old pictures of her on my phone and realized that she has lost her baby chub. The creases on her wrists, creating the "screw on hands" I love so much, disappeared without even saying goodbye! She's all but given up her morning naps. But though we often are so busy that it almost got forgotten, she showed no signs of wanting to give up the breast. And I, knowing that this is my last little baby, wasn't in a hurry either.
Since she has given up those morning naps, I have had to accept the fact that most days I will have company in the shower. As soon as I take off my clothes, she starts trying to strip out of hers. I use the toilet, she indicates that she wants a turn. She sits on the toilet,does nothing, then immediately pees in the shower afterward. And then, at some point in the shower, she notices my equipment, and insists on a snack. I sat there last Thursday morning on the floor of the shower, nursing my little girl and realizing it would probably be the last time I held her slippery little naked body against mine like that.
I really have enjoyed nursing this little girl. What I have not enjoyed is the struggle I've had with my body for the last year. I finally, in that moment, connected that if I'm going to work as hard as I have been to reclaim my body, I need to reclaim all of it, and that includes my breasts. And so I decided we should be done.
I nursed her one final time that night, for as long as she wanted. I thought about the friend of mine who told me the last time she breastfed her youngest, she filmed it, feeding him for an hour and a half just to treasure those final moments. I didn't record it, and I didn't last that long, but I did take several "selfies" just to remember the moment (no, I won't post them). That sweet little hand on my chest, the "special K" lips, the feeling of my baby falling asleep at my chest.
And then we were done. That phase of my life is over. A couple days later, we got ready for our shower again. I took off my clothes, and Rosie made eye contact with my chest. Her eyes brightened, she waved her arms, and squealed in delight. And I said no, hard as it was. It's time.