I am approaching the first year anniversary of when I weaned my son. I have July 29th in my head, but I think now it was July 22nd. I feel bad that I don’t remember, but I can guarantee it was one of those dates (looking at our travel calendar, it was likely the 22nd).
It seems odd that it’s only been a year in a way. He has grown leaps and bounds in that year. Taller, more capable of little things like taking off clothes, starting to potty train, and speaking so much more. His sister meanwhile is already 5 months, and since I’ve been exclusively nursing her, it’s hard to remember it was only 12 months ago that it was her brother enjoying the good stuff.
I was about 3 months pregnant with the Girl when I decided it was time to wean. When we first started to try and get pregnant with her, I thought I should try to wean but he was still so little (about 14 months) and I was so not ready. So then I decided when I got pregnant I would do it. He was just shy of 18 months when we were blessed with the pregnancy, and again, I was just not ready.
Many people said that a lot of children wean during pregnancy because the milk changes. I thought, okay, we’ll just hope for a gradual ‘I’m ready’ wean. He’ll be happy, I won’t need to worry. It wasn’t happening. I came to realize that a lot of the time he was dry nursing. Doing it mostly for comfort. I joked to my husband that I was pretty convinced if I was producing poison that tasted like dirt he’d still want to nurse.
As I grew with the baby inside me and my body began to change again, I wasn’t sure what to do. I talked to my doctor about tandem nursing, because I just wasn’t convinced it would happen. I wasn’t pushing it and he certainly wasn’t going to suggest it.
As I approached my second trimester, I convinced myself it was time. I felt it was time. He was nursing less, and we had stopped night nursing around 15 months. I wanted to devote some extra time to my growing belly and the little being inside. I also didn’t want jealousy to arise when the baby came if I had to wean suddenly instead of tandem nursing.
After a trip to visit my in-laws, we spent the following day at home nursing. All day. I offered, he asked. We may have done it over a dozen times. After our long trips, we always took a day to snuggle like that. Only this time I knew it would be it. He still liked to nurse to sleep, so I lied down with him and without really knowing it, I nursed him for the last time.
I don’t remember much about it, which makes me sad. (Although I do remember what pjs I was wearing, go figure). But this was the routine every night, so all the bedtime nurses blend in my mind. I know we snuggled. I know he fell asleep nuzzled up against me.
When he woke in the morning I thought “well, I’ll try it today. If it doesn’t work, I won’t push it”. I expected a week long, back and forth, slow, gradual nursing decline.
He woke with his eyes half closed and mouth half open, hands searching. I was lying beside him and knew what he was looking for. I just cuddled instead. He woke up fully, with a look on his face as if to say ‘what gives?’ He looked at me again, this time sitting up in the bed. All I could say was ‘nurseys are all gone! there’s no more. We can cuddle, but nurseys are gone’ pointing to my breasts. He looked me in the eyes, looked at my breasts, looked at me again and with his deer-like brown eyes, shrugged his shoulders, raised his hands and proclaimed. “All Done”.
And that was it. My first-born nursing relationship was over. 2 words and it was over.
Over the next many weeks, he sometimes would ask, but not push for it or cry. He never cried. As my breasts grew with the pregnancy he noticed and used them as comfort when falling asleep (usually a hand placed on one was all he wanted. Such a boy). As I neared the end of my pregnancy, when we cuddled to fall asleep, he sometimes, in his half asleep state or in the middle of the night would search for my breast and hold it, or open his mouth half way as if he’d take it if offered. Those times made me sad.
But it was time. And he was okay. It was a beautiful 20 month relationship and I wouldn’t change a thing. I know it was the best thing I did for him. And for me.
As I approach a year since that day, I still find it hard to believe that all it took were those two simple words for him to declare his growing independence and make me realize he wasn’t quite a baby anymore. “All Done” and we truly were all done.
