I have spent the last week reflecting on my breastfeeding relationship with Elliott. The difficulties that we experienced in the beginning. The massive amount of pain that came the first few months. The overflowing milk supply a few months later. And the joy and comfort we both experienced as a result of this wonderful bond. Truly amazing. In fact, maybe, the most selfless thing I have ever done.
For many reasons--I always dreaded weaning Elliott. I couldn't imagine that the day would come. I never wanted to deny him the thing that comforted him the most. I didn't want to end something that allowed me so much joy and happiness.
So when my 16 month old, sweet faced little man shook his head right to left and pulled my shirt down when offering him the breast-- I was heartbroken and felt rejected. I thought it would pass and that once he wasn't nauseous any longer he would resume his nightly feeding.
We are officially broken up. We are no longer a breastfeeding pair. He is no longer my nursling. *Sniffle*
It has been over a week. How long until my breast stops being so swollen? Today I had to massage it in the shower, and when I got out it was dripping milk. I felt like I was a new Mom all over again. Totally unjust.
Inside my head I was thinking that it wasn't fair to physically punish me for this. I didn't decide it--it was decided for me. Something I never considered (yes, I am naive).
My rational, less expressed side is relieved. I feel slightly freer. I feel a little more autonomous. I feel almost back to myself again. If only the pain in my boob would subside. Perhaps me and a cabbage leaf will get friendly. Something outta reap the benefits, right?