Weaned

Soren is weaned, at least I think.  A few weeks ago, he refused to nurse one morning, but happily took a bottle.  I secretly hoped he was self-weaning, because then I wouldn't have to make the decision of when and could feel less guilty when it happened.  His nursing strike turned out to be an anomaly though. 

I didn't plan to wean Soren this early, but I think my decision to stop pumping at work about three weeks ago ended up causing my supply to drop and Soren realized he could get a guaranteed supply from the bottle.  I simply had grown tired of pumping.  It didn't just take time from my work day, but because of the timing of my pumping sessions, along with meetings and lunch, it was rare that I even had an hour-long period to devote to anything on my task list.  I remembered back to when Oliver was Soren's age and how my body adjusted along with Oliver's feeding schedule.  Because I formula-fed more and more often in Oliver's last months of breastfeeding, the weaning process was gradual and quite easy on my body. I kept waiting for that natural slow-down this time around until I realized that when you're pumping, you could just keep going.  Chris and I are taking a trip in mid-September - without the kids - and I made the decision awhile back that it would make sense to wean Soren before the trip.  I was not running around New York City with a manual pump stuffed in my handbag.  I decided that ditching pumping had to be the first step in the weaning process, because I felt like my body was never going to slow down on its own. 

I think some women who work outside the home pull off breastfeeding just on nights and weekends, but my body never fell into a rhythm. My tactic was to hold off pumping as long as I could and then only pump minimally, and the first few days went surprisingly well as I quickly stopped pumping during the day.  But then life happened and I missed a feeding here and there because of going out or Soren skipping a feeding for one reason or another.  I started to hit this cycle of missing a feeding, becoming engorged, pumping for relief, and then experiencing what appeared to be a lessened supply based on Soren's dissatisfied reaction.  I didn't want to counteract the drop by pumping a lot to stimulate supply, because I was pumping at odd times and was worried I'd start producing milk at all these wrong times (i.e. when Soren was sleeping) and I'd end up back in a cycle of needing to pump on a schedule (just what I'd been trying to get away from) or unpredictably becoming engorged. 

This weekend Soren refused to nurse when I got him up in the morning.  I had wanted to hold onto "nights and weekend" breastsfeeding because it's a lot easier than trying to make a bottle for an impatient baby who hasn't eaten all night.  But it didn't bother me to have to make a bottle and Soren enjoyed it just the same.  For the rest of the weekend, I'd offer him the breast first, but he'd maybe take a few sips, before sucking down a bottle.  And with that I decided we had reached the beginning of the end of breastfeeding. 

I still don't consider myself completely finished with breastfeeding though.  My pump is still stashed in my desk at work and another is yet to be packed away at home, just in case.  And my body is still figuring out that it can finally shut off the spigots.  I fell shy of my goal by about three months, but as I told a friend who told me she gave up breastfeeding after four months, once her baby passes the year mark, whether she had fed him breastmilk or formula will seem like a distant memory. 

I'm still wearing nursing bras and yet I can hardly believe that I've left that phase behind with a second child.  I'll never forget how in awe I was to witness an example of natural instinct when I nursed Soren for the first time.  He was not even an hour old and I placed him at my breast and he opened his mouth and flung it forward right onto my nipple with such precision as if he'd done that whole suckling thing a thousand times before.  I'd taken a class on breastfeeding and had read books, yet he knew just what to do straight from the womb. 

I took this picture of Soren (at 7.5 months) because I always liked the sight of him curled up in my lap, especially after he had eaten and was at his happiest.  I'll miss it when he's no longer small enough to fit on my lap.