No, seriously: and here we are.
Tomorrow morning I will nurse my baby boy for the last time.
Honestly, I think that I am doing pretty well this week: I have cherished each wake-up nurse to the best of my ability, and even though I don't know how much he can understand I have talked LO through them, saying things like "this is your last week of mama milk, buddy, are we going to be ok with that?" He either doesn't understand or couldn't care less: he's much more interested in running to the window and saying full sentences like "There goes the bus!"
Overall, I have an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment in the bond we've managed to create over the last almost 18-months. Or technically, the last 27 months, as I kind of see breastfeeding as an extension of that "part of each other" bond that started as soon as I began carrying that little zygote way back in November of 08.
I hearken back to a conversation my sister and I had when I was 7 months pregnant. "Are you going to breastfeed?" she asked. "I think I'll try to go until at least 6 months if it works out, but it will be hard to make it after I go back to work full-time." Her response with a sneer: "Why would you only go 6 months? You KNOW 12 months is better!" I'm sure she understands now how frustrating it is to get parenting/pregnancy advice from someone who is not even a parent or pregnant herself, but then I just let it go.
I approached breastfeeding as a good part of our bond, but I had watched too many of my friends beat themselves up when they had a low supply or something prevented breastfeeding from working out for them. So my tactic was "I will try my best, and if it doesn't work out, I'm not going to stress about it." Luckily my guy had a great latch from the first time out of the gate, and I didn't have any issues until I had been at work full time for a few months.
As I got into it and really began to enjoy the ease, the bond, the simplicity of the task of breastfeeding my child, I decided that best case scenario would be for him to self-wean around 18 months. And here we are. Two weeks shy of 18 months and he's no longer asking for it and hasn't batted an eye since his last bedtime nurse two months ago. So it's time for my baby love to be my little boy.::sigh:: Hopefully I won't be a total hot mess after tomorrow's nursing, but even now just thinking about it is making me cry.