We usually celebrate the firsts that our children go through, but often times we forget about the lasts. I’d guess that’s probably because we simply don’t realize that what we’re witnessing will be a last. We often don’t get to laugh the last time they use a funny made up word before figuring out how to say it correctly…smile at our baby the last time they crawl instead of walk like a toddler…or drink in the sight and feel of the last time time they nurse.
I’ll write an entire post about this soon, but on Friday I spent an hour and a half at the acupuncturist trying to get some relief from this incessant nausea, and by the end of that appointment I had decided that it was time for Stella to be weaned. I’m absolutely exhausted, touched out, and struggling to make it through the day, and something had to give.
As a result, the last time Stella nursed was either Wednesday night or Thursday morning – I don’t even remember which! She spent Thursday-Saturday morning with her grandparents while Charlie and I were resting and trying to feel better, and since then I’ve been telling her that Momma’s milk is “all gone.”
It hurts my heart to be done, but it was necessary for us at this moment in time. I just wish I’d have realized our last time was going to be our last.
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