But, I've written about my breastfeeding journey a few times on here. It's been a very important part of this whole motherhood thing for me.
It was something that was ours. Our time together. My way to provide for her. It became something I felt passionate about. The importance of it. The way we worked through the hardships & overcame them. It was a personal victory of mine.
I set a goal, and as I reached & then surpassed each goal I felt so accomplished. A personal choice for me and my family that seemed to work with our lifestyle. 3 months. Check. 6 months. Check. After we passed 6 months with flying colors, nursing was a breeze. An absolute breeze. At that point is when I made the choice to just keep going. Because? Why not?
My new goal would be 12 months if it worked for us.
Well, it was still working for me. [As my boobs can attest. Can we say OW?] But, apparently, my little miss. independent decided this past weekend she was done with it. In this circumstance, both parties have to agree, you see. She wasn't having it, anymore.
I knew something was up. A few days prior to The Quit she stopped nursing before bed. Pushing me away and wanting nothing to do with 'them'. In fact, every bit of her body language was saying, "Just put me in my crib, damn it!" (Except, I'd like to think she wouldn't curse with that cute little voice of hers. But yea.) A few minutes later? She would be fast asleep.
I didn't think too much of it.
Until the next day, when after 12-13 hours at night went by, and surely the kid should be starving, and she refused me again. And then again. Again. Again. Again. [As you know, *I* do not like giving up. Hence, why I was persistent.]
She didn't want to nurse. At all.
After a few other attempts over the next two days during our normal nursing times that all ended the same way, I knew it was done.
My mom-gut just confirmed it. We made it to 11 months. Not 12.
While I kind of want to be all "whoa is me, I didn't reach my goal" (and trust me, I did say that a few times and had a few good cries), I also know, we had a really good run. And I did reach my goal. My original goal of 3 months? I blew that out of the water. Then six months. Etc.
For my first baby, we had eleven (ELEVEN! Longer than the time she was in my belly!) challenging, wonderful and great months of breastfeeding. I'm really proud of that. I am.
I have always followed her signs with all phases and changes that come with baby'dom. You know, when to be unswaddled, feeding her solids, table foods, nap routines, etc. It's never failed me yet to let her lead.
And clear as day, she told me she was done with this stage of life, too.
My eyes well up with tears when I think about it being over. But, I'm okay. She is healthy & perfect, and I'm just grateful that it worked out for so long.