Two weeks ago Adeline and I had a busy morning.  We had music class and then some errands to run and we didn’t have time to go home in between for her morning nursing.  So I brought along some of her almond milk and hoped for the best.

Adeline has never taken a bottle.  When she was a few weeks old we introduced it and it seemed to go well.  We gave her maybe three bottles total.  Then we were packing, moving, settling in: things were hectic to say the least.  Pumping was beyond me.  By the time I had the energy to try again she absolutely refused to take the bottle.  So I have nursed her.  Every time she needed milk for the last year I have nursed her.  I have been inextricably tied to her.  Sometimes I’ve hated it, but other times it’s been wonderful.

When she was about a year old I started giving her almond milk.  Never at a time when we would normally nurse, just other times when she might be a little thirsty.  After a few tries she really liked it.  So I told myself I had found the substitute: when we were ready to wean she would switch to almond milk.  (She drinks it out of a water bottle with a straw or out of a cup.)

So two weeks ago, on our busy morning, I brought some almond milk along and she drank it.  When we got home I was ready to nurse her, but she wasn’t interested.  She wanted to say hi to the doggies and pull books off the bookshelf and terrorize the cats.  So I stood back and watched her and felt my breasts grow full. She had never skipped a nursing like that before.

The next morning she probably would have taken it, but I wanted to see if we could skip it again.  I gave her the almond milk and some extra snacks and she was a little crabby at first, but she moved on remarkably quickly.  Two weeks later she hasn’t looked back.  We’re still nursing three times a day, but I feel like the weaning process has begun.

And I feel incredibly ambivalent about it.  When I got pregnant I knew that I would breastfeed.  I knew it was the best thing for baby and I knew it was what I wanted.  But I never wanted to be nursing when she was well into toddlerhood.  I told myself that I would nurse one year.  But as one year approached I didn’t feel ready to stop.  It’s such a lovely time for us: we sit together, for once Adeline sits still and I’m not trying to do a hundred other things, and we just are. Together.  And I know that the health benefits continue as long as I’m still making milk.  (Which I am, for now at least.)

And a part of me doesn’t want to stop because I’m still clinging onto her babyhood: as long as she’s nursing she’s still mine.  We’re still connected and I can take care of her better than anyone else.  But once we stop, we won’t have that special bond anymore.  Anyone can fill up a bottle with almond milk.  Realistically, I know that I will still be mama and nothing beats that.  But emotionally I’m heartbroken to let go of this special time.

So we’ll stick with three nursings a day for awhile.  And when we’re ready we’ll drop another one.  We’ll nurse in the morning and at bedtime and then slowly we’ll drop those, as well.  I hope that when the time comes I won’t feel as sad about it. But I think it will be sad no matter what.  My baby is growing up.