This poem was stolen with love from La Leche League. Kind of like the formula from Babies R Us yesterday. Which was a complete accident. Really. Anja was in the stroller and not in the shopping cart because it was easier for her to have a snack in the stroller. Really. The formula was in the bottom of the stroller and the pacifiers were on the top. The diapers were in my hand. I didn't realize the formula was STILL in the bottom of the stroller until after I put Anja back in her car seat and was preparing the fold up the thing and put it in the trunk. Really. It was a huge oops. And I know I should have gone back inside. But one does not realize how much time it takes to take out a stroller, take out the baby, put baby in said stroller, attach toys and snack, grab diaper bag (which contains wallet), and lock the car. I look at it as a gift from Babies R Us in exchange for all of the business I've given them. Or perhaps it's payback for the glider rocker that didn't arrive until five days before Anja was born, about a month late.
The weaning has begun. Anja started it. She decided that she would rather sleep at night than nurse. Then she decided that she would rather play in the evening before she went to bed instead of nurse. So now she only nurses in the morning and at dinner and gets her bottles in between. And I'm kind of eager to get rid of that before dinner nursing because she's pretty hyper and that is when she likes to play with me with those little teeth of hers. My goal is to have her completely weaned by Dr. Z's graduation party in May so that I can pour myself a margarita out of the machine and drink the whole thing. Then I will probably promptly pass out after over 18 months of pregnancy/nursing-forced sobriety. Oh well.
But I like this poem. For as relieved as I am that breastfeeding will soon be over, there is heartbreak too. Her weaning is symbolic that she doesn't need me like she used to. I am no longer her only source of sustenance. I remember when she was teeny (well, teeny for her) she would nurse for a really long time and I would sit and stroke her hair and her ears and study all of her fingers and her toes, just amazed that she was mine. When she was a little older she would play peek-a-boo with me: she would stop nursing to stare up at me and would not go back to nursing until I looked down at her. Needless to say, these little games made nursing last a long time, but it sure was fun. I'm going to miss the morning nursings the most. It's our morning snuggle after several hours of not seeing each other.
But I'm ready for weaning. BRING IT ON! There's a girls night out in the works when all of this is over.
Wean Me Gently
by Cathy Cardall
I know I look so big to you,
Maybe I seem too big for the needs I have.
But no matter how big we get,
We still have needs that are important to us.
I know that our relationship is growing and changing,
But I still need you. I need your warmth and closeness,
Especially at the end of the day
When we snuggle up in bed.
Please don't get too busy for us to nurse.
I know you think I can be patient,
Or find something to take the place of a nursing;
A book, a glass of something,
But nothing can take your place when I need you.
Sometimes just cuddling with you,
Having you near me is enough.
I guess I am growing and becoming independent,
But please be there.
This bond we have is so strong and so important to me,
Please don't break it abruptly.
Wean me gently,
Because I am your mother,
And my heart is tender.