The Big Wean

I had a lot of mixed feelings about weaning The Barracuda. I still do. For instance, the morning that I tried to shove a boob in her mouth and she bit me so hard I thought (just for the briefest of moments, and I would NEVER do this) that I might punch her. Six teeth left an interesting impression on my right nipple. Let's face it, after one year of breastfeeding, my nips weren't exactly the hottest on the planet. I guess the teeth marks really elevated them to deafcon 7. Flash forward to evening/bedtime nursing, and I would have the sweet girl who delicately nursed while clutching her lovey, only occasionally letting go to shove a pudgy hand in my mouth or up my left nostril.

I remember, towards the end, when I tried to nurse her one morning (the day after I had just skipped an early morning feed) she hungrily nursed only to be met with...NOTHING. Oh, did she pull back with a lock of shock and anger. She immediately started to cry. The kind of cry reserved for scary strangers and vaccinations. And while she stared at me with her beet red face, the tears streaming, she pointed at me. ACCUSINGLY. Oofta. That image will guilt me into something later in life.

Biting and finger pointing aside, I think the main reason I stopped was that I just couldn't do it anymore. I could not haul my ta-tas out one more time. On top of it, I started getting my period back in October. Do you know how freakin' taxing it is to nurse and menstruate? I assure you, it sucks. I was WIPED.

Ultimately I am happy that I did finally wean her. And a happy mom leads to a happy baby/toddler. And I'm damn proud of myself that I did make it to my goal of a year for breastfeeding.