It is kind of bittersweet and kind of not, but Anders said bye bye to the boobies last week at 15 months. I didn't mind nursing him over a year because I am fairly certain it will be our last little snookum wookums to snuggle up for milk. As I write this, emotions are randomly starting to flood me a bit; I suppose this is the first time I'm stopping to really think about it. Damn, my eyes are tearing up.
There wasn't a big plan behind the weaning... feedings just dropped here and there as the months and weeks went on. I didn't know the last time I fed him was the actual last time I was going to nurse him. I wish I would have held him a little longer, had I known. But in reality I probably broke the latch because his teeth were irritating me as he mindlessly drifted off. Damn, I'm officially crying now.
But! It was time. I know this. So although I'm blubbering at the moment, I am happy that we are both moving on and growing. Onwards and upwards, as they say. It is the start of a new chapter where I get to reclaim my body for myself after almost 4 years of being pregnant and/or nursing. Can I get a "Hallelujah!" from the crowd?
Hallelujah.
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