I'm struggling with nursing.
Or rather, weaning.
Right now, I'm deciding what's best for me and Finn. My goal was always one year. Neither Chad nor I wants Finn nursing when he's old enough to ask for it. Maybe that's an arbitrary designation, but I really just don't want a toddler pulling down (or up!) my shirt in the middle of conversation, and I think we're approaching the cut off point. So it's time. Right?
At least, that's what my head says, but my heart is breaking a little. There are certainly times when Finn initiates the nursing (with vigor!), but sometimes, I'm the one. There's something about it that I love. Whether it's the closeness, the instant calm, the comfort I can provide without hesitation...I don't know. I just know I'm missing it already.
I'm also a bit scared. I know that I can soothe my kiddo without a doubt by pulling out a boob, but I've been so reliant on that for 15 months (wait...it can't have been 15 months already!) now that I'm not 100% sure I've got any other tricks up my sleeve. I guess it's all a learning curve, this kid thing. This parent thing. This life thing.
Today might be the day. I just dropped him off at daycare until five. I've got a meeting at 5:30 and one at 6:30, so it's quite likely that he'll go to sleep tonight without having nursed at all. I wonder if he'll notice. I wonder if my body will just adjust like it's nothing. I guess we'll see.