I felt it bubbling up. Erupting as I cried and yelled to Charlie in the car. A shame filled morning- guilt about not nursing at night. Guilt about her wanting to nurse all night. Guilt over those cries and sobs that ring in your ears for ages. Frustration at not being able to do it all- keep up with what my body is being demanded to do. In other words- we are night weaning. Again.
It has been hard and heart breaking. I am done with night nursing. Along with pregnancy came some serious pain while nursing. I can handle, endure and distract myself enough to make it doable and (sometimes even) enjoyable during the day but at night the resentment was being built hour by hour, suck by suck, bricks that were stacking high and affecting me all day long as I dreaded the evening.
Last night was night three of night weaning- it was the hardest night. Sobs. Choking sobs while I rocked her and told her “in the morning, in the morning, I am so sorry sweet girl” and she responds “mamas baby? Nolie baby?” and I sob back “yes, yes, always mamas baby. My sweet Nolie baby.” and lose it even further.
This morning I felt alone. Charlie can’t help- she won’t have him, try as he might. The only chorus heard from our little home is “hold the mama, nurse the mama”. I am (trying) to remember how short this time will be. I will miss her being this tiny- this defiant- this silly. This girl from this very day who carries a weight she will n ever carry again. I am trying to memorize her bulk in my arms and her little lips as they work to get the tiny bit of milk that I still have. I will miss this.
As we drove away from Charlies work this morning I knew I couldn’t go home yet. Couldn’t face nursing again yet. Couldn’t face the neediness yet. Wanted a few more moments of quiet as she watches out the window and listens to the music of horns and cars. So I kept driving. This is a theme for me, when the going gets tough Autumn gets to gas guzzling. I have mostly quit this habit my bank account and gas tank being big motivators. But today I kept driving. Headed out to where I knew we could breath.
The country. Big fields covered in frozen dew with sun spilling out of the cold trees and casting gold on every inch. Horses with jackets (for Nolie) and old fences with textures beyond cracked or decayed and falling into beautiful and fragile. We kept going. Little chimneys puffing hot smoke and lights just being turned on. No cars on the roads. We stopped- parked on the road and just sat for a moment. I cried tears over having to say no when my heart aches and breaks to say Yes, yes, yes! I praised God for that golden field and frozen tall grass. And was able to breath.
We came home and it felt better. I felt lighter. Nolie played on her own and colored while the coffee brewed. Now is a time for nursing and enjoying it. Books and naps, playing and singing, Christmas music and inside play as we look outside as the frost disappears.
Weaning is hard. Coping is hard. Growing up in tiny fits and bursts is hardest. A moment to breath brings me back to the reality that no matter how much I want to feel the opposite- it really is harder on her than on me and that is where my empathy needs to pour from. Being two is rough. Today I will be gentle, gentle, gentle and tomorrow the same.