She may not realize it. But she just weaned herself. 

We were down to a single morning feeding. Yesterday and today, she forgot about it. Interestingly, she also just started showing attachment to stuffed animals in the last week. 

So, at three am, she took a yogurt pouch. At 5:30 am, she picked up Pooh Bear from beside her in the crib. I asked her if she wanted breakfast, she laughed and nodded. 

We went downstairs. And that’s it. She’s weaned. I’m pretty confident my boobs won’t hold out another day. They’re asking to nurse, like a warm, nurturing buzz. But it’s more of a whisper than it has been before. 

All the Brewers yeast and fennel oil and oatmeal and tears fighting the feeling that I just wasn’t ample enough for Aria. The pumping six times a day to bring in 12 ounces of milk to provide half the milk Aria was drinking. Finally letting go and accepting it was just fine. 

Five pumps, four pumps, three pumps, two. Pump in the car ride. Pump at night. Pump, pump, pump, pump, pump. 

Three pumps, two pumps, one pump. None! No more in the teachers lounge, oh what fun!

12 nursings. 10 nursings. 5 nursings. Two. Comfort nursings. Nap nursings. Just for you. 

Nursing. Nursing. Middle of the night nursing. Let’s get started with the morning is bright nursing. 

Two nursings. One nursing. Cuddle in the morning nursing. 

Now lookie here. Let’s count to none. 

18 months and Aria is done. 


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