It's sad. It's thrilling. It's confusing.
My heart aches as I think of my son never returning to my breast and alternately, I rejoice at the prospect of having my body back; no more engorgement, no more leaking, no more nursing, no quibbling over my bra or shirt choice in the morning.
It was a rough decision for me and it's still one that I have to recommit to every so often because I'm not sure if it is the right thing to do, only time will tell.
|Nursing in the hospital,|
just about to touch hands
It feels like a relief so far, which is encouraging and the biggest part of why I decided weaning was the way to go: I needed relief. I have become so reduced by my illness that I don't feel as if I do much at all but nonetheless I am overwhelmed. Cutting out breastfeeding will hopefully help relieve some stress and pressure from my life, I think just making the decision to wean has done some of that.
Not every session, but lately quite frequently nursing has been very frustrating. I get angry and feel trapped, think about other things I could be doing or other, darker thoughts. Every so often it's the beautiful, wondrous, peaceful thing that it once was and that is what I grieve. But the prospect of releasing myself from the tortuous sessions and anxieties over supply and engorgement and growth spurts and biting, that feels like such a gift, a gift to give myself.... and hopefully if my health improves, then a gift in turn for my family.
|He was so "little" here...|
So much grieving in my life lately. Funny, grief seems like when they send you home with your baby. You can't believe there aren't instructions or a course to qualify as a parent or rules, it just is. That's grief. No rules, no directions, no qualifications, you just have to grapple with it. But boy, I want to learn more about this grief monster!
In other news, my period is on and I'm a raging sugerhund. Chocolate beware, I'm on yer trail. Oh, and cookies... lotso cookies.