Sunday morning was the last time that Jack nursed. I only wish I knew it then. Driving home from Tacoma that night, I got hit with one of the worst flu/colds I've had in a while. I swear, I could actually feel the germs taking over; it was like a planned attack. They were all waiting in their bunkers, listening to my thoughts. "We'll be moving this time next month, that is, if Ed gets this fellowship, which we find out tomorrow, I need to get a job, we need to find a place to live, what about the cats, oh, should probably pay some bills, wait, is that my throat getting sore? oh, and why am I shaking so much?" Ed & Jack opened the apartment door, I stumbled through and barely kissed Jack goodnight before crashing into bed, delirious with tears and a fever. I had no healthy space to worry about whether or not Jack would miss nursing right before bed.
Apparently, he's fine. Ed's been getting him up in the morning (the other time he used to nurse) and putting him to bed. I got Jack up this morning and he showed no interest in nursing- to my slight shock. I guess I'm the one who needs the real weaning. I just wish I knew Sunday morning that that was the last time- so much so that I'm seriously considering going back to nursing (if Jack'll take me) just for a week so I can cherish it. But, then I've realized how precious the last few weeks have been since we've been on basically a schedule of habit rather than nutritional need.
I keep thinking about the Friday night months ago when Jack was still sleeping in our bed and how he would nurse and nurse and nurse and nurse forEVER and how I finally couldn't take it anymore, and got up, crying, desperate, leaving Jack with Ed and went and called my mom and sister, crazy with the need to have my body back. Both very sympathetic, my mom compassionately laughed, finally able to "let me in" on the kind of complex, intense emotions that come with motherhood (parenthood). Back then, I couldn't WAIT to have MY breasts back (despite jack's clear possession of them). Any nursing mother knows exactly what I mean.
When I first found out I was pregnant, a friend of mine emailed me saying that kids bring out the extremes of ALL your emotions: love, anger, exhaustion (yes, exhaustion is an emotion), whatever. She couldn't have been more right. Here am I now, not five months after my breast-breakdown, and I am craving the lost nursing time. It's definitely not like Sesame Street where you're either "sad," "happy," or "mad." Having kids blends all the emotions even more than they were by just living an adult day-to-day life. Just trying to articulate the feeling that sums up how proud I am of Jack for not being clingy and riding the transition so well, how short my breath is drawn when I remember that we won't nurse again-ever, how nice it is knowing there are other ways to be close, and how great it will be that Ed and I can take turns sleeping in now- well, that's no easy task. I do enjoy trying to find the language for it all, though. But mostly, I'm grateful that I have so many (good) feelings to try and express.
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