Turning 30 and getting my body back (to myself)
Thanks for the birthday wishes. It’s been an entire week of being 30 and so far, it’s been great. Ryan threw me a suprise party, and what a suprise it was. It’s always suprising to learn that people like you, evidenced by the amount of friends that showed up at my SURPRISE birthday party. And it was so fun... I had a better time than I imagined, although I did pass out by midnight. Not cause I was drunk (but have you had the new Smirnoff Raw Tea yet? DANGEROUS! And WONDERFUL) but because I’m old now, and a mom, and I like sleep, especially when my daughter is nestled in bed between my mother and father and I have a bed all to myself with no interuptions. That was a good birthday present in itself.
Pictures from the party can be seen here.
Now on to a different subject.
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1 year, 6 months, 1 week and 4 days.
That’s how long I breastfed my baby.
For a while now (um... since beginning to nurse, it seems) I’ve been devising a way to wean my beloved boob junkie. I wasn’t sure that it was even possible, considering the amount that she always wanted to nurse, and how much it comforted her. A few months ago, after a trip to the doctor, I began to question myself. My doctor was switching my depression/anxiety medication, and she asked me if I was still nursing.
I lied (after extensive research on whether or not it was safe to nurse on what she was switching me to... and it was). To which she laughed, “oh, well, you never know – but I was going to say, whew! 15 months... yeah, if you were you might be getting something else out of it.”
That’s when I started to feel like a freak. Then Lyric started asking for it. “Boob?” she’d inquire? “Boob!” she’d demand. “Boooobbbb,” she’d sob. Trouble.
I always said that I’d be done nursing once my baby could ask for it. But I had never been there.
Saturday morning was the last time we nursed. After talking to her pediatrician, who recommended that I go cold turkey, that’s the route I chose. I thought, “boy, am I really in for a hellacious weekend.” I had Ryan buy me a head of cabbage, and I waited for the breakdowns to begin.
But they never did. Not really. At my first refusal, it took a while to console her. After that, she took “boobies go bye bye... all gone!” as an explanation. Last night, I snuggled with her in bed, and she laid her hand on my chest and said, “boob.” And I said, “no, boobies go bye bye.” And she rested her head on my shoulder and snuggled closer before she fell asleep. I’ve never felt greater relief.
The only hard part that I’m dealing with right now is the pain. My boobs are so full, they’re like rocks. And while they’re not leaking or anything like they might have done a year ago, they’re still very uncomfortable. And I can’t very well shove cabbage down my shirt at work, because if you’ve never smelled what cabbage cooking on warm skin smells like, you certainly don’t want to. And I want my coworkers to like me, and not call me “the girl that smells like cabbage.” That’s not a good label.
So yes, I thought that this would be harder. I probably could have done it sooner, but I was nervous. 18 months is a long time to be in the same routine, and the change was kind of scary. I thought I’d feel a little more sad, and while Saturday night was a little tough for me, since then I’ve been fine. Of course last night I finished off what was left of a gallon of ice cream, complete with chocolate syrup, so my hormones might be starting to get out of whack. But hopefully when I start taking my estrogen based birth control pills again and my milk starts drying up, and up myself tonight (doctor recommended, of course) to 60mg of Cymbalta, all will even out. I love Western medicine.
I'm glad to have had this experience. The past 18 months have been wonderful, and while it is kind of sad to have this milestone behind me, at the same time - I was ready. I'd tell anyone who was willing to breastfeed their baby. It's the most bonding experience that you can share with your child. And if you don't understand that, it's because you've never done it. I would never take anything back or regret anything.
So that’s my story. No more boob... until I decide if I’m going to have another baby. And that’s a whole other story that we’ll talk about another day.
Pictures from the party can be seen here.
Now on to a different subject.
*******************************************
1 year, 6 months, 1 week and 4 days.
That’s how long I breastfed my baby.
For a while now (um... since beginning to nurse, it seems) I’ve been devising a way to wean my beloved boob junkie. I wasn’t sure that it was even possible, considering the amount that she always wanted to nurse, and how much it comforted her. A few months ago, after a trip to the doctor, I began to question myself. My doctor was switching my depression/anxiety medication, and she asked me if I was still nursing.
I lied (after extensive research on whether or not it was safe to nurse on what she was switching me to... and it was). To which she laughed, “oh, well, you never know – but I was going to say, whew! 15 months... yeah, if you were you might be getting something else out of it.”
That’s when I started to feel like a freak. Then Lyric started asking for it. “Boob?” she’d inquire? “Boob!” she’d demand. “Boooobbbb,” she’d sob. Trouble.
I always said that I’d be done nursing once my baby could ask for it. But I had never been there.
Saturday morning was the last time we nursed. After talking to her pediatrician, who recommended that I go cold turkey, that’s the route I chose. I thought, “boy, am I really in for a hellacious weekend.” I had Ryan buy me a head of cabbage, and I waited for the breakdowns to begin.
But they never did. Not really. At my first refusal, it took a while to console her. After that, she took “boobies go bye bye... all gone!” as an explanation. Last night, I snuggled with her in bed, and she laid her hand on my chest and said, “boob.” And I said, “no, boobies go bye bye.” And she rested her head on my shoulder and snuggled closer before she fell asleep. I’ve never felt greater relief.
The only hard part that I’m dealing with right now is the pain. My boobs are so full, they’re like rocks. And while they’re not leaking or anything like they might have done a year ago, they’re still very uncomfortable. And I can’t very well shove cabbage down my shirt at work, because if you’ve never smelled what cabbage cooking on warm skin smells like, you certainly don’t want to. And I want my coworkers to like me, and not call me “the girl that smells like cabbage.” That’s not a good label.
So yes, I thought that this would be harder. I probably could have done it sooner, but I was nervous. 18 months is a long time to be in the same routine, and the change was kind of scary. I thought I’d feel a little more sad, and while Saturday night was a little tough for me, since then I’ve been fine. Of course last night I finished off what was left of a gallon of ice cream, complete with chocolate syrup, so my hormones might be starting to get out of whack. But hopefully when I start taking my estrogen based birth control pills again and my milk starts drying up, and up myself tonight (doctor recommended, of course) to 60mg of Cymbalta, all will even out. I love Western medicine.
I'm glad to have had this experience. The past 18 months have been wonderful, and while it is kind of sad to have this milestone behind me, at the same time - I was ready. I'd tell anyone who was willing to breastfeed their baby. It's the most bonding experience that you can share with your child. And if you don't understand that, it's because you've never done it. I would never take anything back or regret anything.
So that’s my story. No more boob... until I decide if I’m going to have another baby. And that’s a whole other story that we’ll talk about another day.
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