If you had told me I would nurse my baby past 6 months I would never have believed you. After two very difficult breastfeeding journies with my big girls, I had pretty much resigned myself that the third time would not be the charm. I prayed about it, sure, and re-read all the books and prepared myself the best way I knew how. I had a lot of support. Maybe I was more relaxed, maybe I just didn’t take things as seriously, and therefore, it came easier. Whatever it was, it has been one of the great joys of my life and an accomplishment I thought I might never experience. Today Baby V had her 6 month well check, and I could tell by her doctor’s face that something needed to be addressed. The baby spent last week with my Mom so that Vann and I could have a nice break, have some date nights, enjoy the peace and quiet – the big girls were going to my in-law’s farm so it would really be a staycation for us. The only downside was that I would have to pump for 5 days – something I was willing to do – but I could tell something was up when I was getting very little – and then of course the worry started.
I have been praying about this for about a month or so. Because I’m ready to have some freedom from solely feeding her and pumping. Because I’m ready to be able to eat/drink/take medication/whatever without thinking of someone else first. Because I’m ready to drop the weight I think my body is hanging onto for the sake of making milk for her. So I’ve been praying, praying that the Lord would prepare my heart for whatever that looked like, that He would give me peace, that the decision would be easily made. And when her doctor showed me the growth chart and said she had fallen off her curve, that she’s lost weight, in fact, weighs less than she did at 4 months – well tears sprung to my eyes and I thought, “Well. There it is.” I knew in my heart that taking supplements and trying to get my supply back up wasn’t really what I wanted to do, and so we discussed weaning and getting my girl filled up with calories as quickly as possible. And of course, I’m ok with that, formula is a great option and I have two healthy girls to show for it. But I wasn’t quite prepared for the emotion that would hit me when I made the decision to wean her. Which makes sense, as she’s my last baby, and this will be the last time I ever make a decision like this. It also means she’s growing, and getting bigger, as she should, and those early newborn days, as hard as they were, are but a memory now and will continue to be. So I know that I will mourn this for a bit, and I know that’s to be expected. But it also means, for the first time since December of 2006, I will be myself again. This woman, this person, apart from my life as a mother, I will be Amanda again. And it makes me think, no KNOW beyond the shadow of a doubt, that my God is good and He knew what He was doing these last months as I toiled over whether I should continue or not. He was giving me those gentle nudges for a reason, as if to say – I see you. I hear you. I know you. I remember, and I haven’t forgotten you.
