Bye, Bye Birdie...

I mean, boobie.

Yes, my lactating days are over. For quite some time (I'd say since the teeth turned Ethan into a biting, blood-drawing demon), we've only been nursing once or twice at night. On his first birthday, I rather unceremoniously packed up the pump and storage bottles, telling myself, "Good girl! You made it to a year!" and tossed them into a dark part of the basement, presumably never to be heard from again.

I figured we would nurse during the overnight for as long as the little man wanted. It is an incredibly easy way to convince him to go back to sleep--admittedly, I have been more of a pacifier than a source of nutrition for quite awhile. So for the past almost two months, the boobs have been a bit of Baby Ambien rather than the belly-sating milkshake of days gone by. I thought it would last for at least a few more months.

Nope. Last night Ethan, our up-all-night (or at least every hour) baby, slept from 8pm and, at present (7:05am) is still sleeping, with no late night boob snack. He's been doing the 8am-8pm sleep for quite awhile now, but it is always broken up by at least one or two quick fusses and latches, neither of which any of us really wake up for. But not last night.

There's a part of me that's thrilled--I've been wearing regular, non-nursing bras for over a month now and it's fabulous. There is something lovely and empowering about having my entire body back to myself after 1.5 years.

But then....it's letting go of something that's been a part of my body for 1.5 years. In a tiny way, it is just one more step on Ethan's path towards independence. Again, a lovely thing and I love watching him become his own person, but a mama's gotta feel a little pang of sadness when she realizes that her baby doesn't need her the way he did just a few months ago.