Chloe, against my best efforts to force my boob in her mouth, has decided to wean herself recently. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty bent up about this. I actually cried in my Corn Flakes this morning while watching Jonathan give her a bottle. It's hard to accept that your baby has moved on, and now prefers some synthetic cow concoction over you. Breastfeeding for me has been a somewhat magical, deeply moving experience. Not magical in the sense that I have pixie dust shooting out of my bosoms, but magical because I can comfort someone almost instantly and that to me is really powerful. I'll miss that. That, and that curvaceous, breastfeeding body that I barely got to know.
I'm trying to look at the bright side. It's kind of liberating I guess. No more boob shaped maxipads inside my Communist, factory worker inspired bra. I'll no longer suffer the wrath of the hairy eyeball of disapproving, anti-breastfeeding people. I'll never accidentally walk out of the house with my nursing bra straps still unfastened, hours later realizing this and remembering the strange stares from the people in the supermarket checkout line.
And the girls, although smaller, are all mine (Jonathan's) again. I've been bound to this kid for 6 months without any break. Chloe and I still have our nice little morning feed, which I'm assuming she likes more for comfort than nourishment, and I'm fine with that. In fact, I'd be the first to admit that the feed is probably more for me than her. This weekend though, Jonathan & I will get away for our anniversary to Vegas for 2 FULL NIGHTS AND DAYS without kids which will probably wean her off that morning feed too. So, I guess this milk cart is pretty much closed for business. sniff. Maybe now I can go a whole 10 minutes without saying boob. It's been boob this, boob that and what not for the last 6 months and I think we're all a little happy for that to end. OOOOh, and I can drink as much as I want now too! Where's that bottle of Chardonnay? The girls deserve a drink!