It’s been 4 days since Charlotte has properly nursed.
I didn’t plan this. It just sort of happened and I went with it.
I’ve been noticing she’s pretty disinterested in nursing at bedtime for the past week. She’s on and off and really doesn’t stay latched for longer than a minute at a time. Monday was a normal night. She nursed distractedly and went to bed.
She woke up around midnight that night and eagerly latched like usual.
At bedtime on Tuesday, she latched for about 5 seconds and then popped her paci in her mouth and that was that. Then, she slept through the night.
She didn’t ask to nurse at bedtime on Wednesday and I didn’t offer. Again, she slept through the night. (I started fantasizing that this sleeping through the night would be a regular thing. The universe laughed.)
Thursday bedtime was the same. She didn’t ask and I didn’t offer. When she woke up crying at midnight, I had to decide what to do. Fast. I was so conflicted. I knew I should try to build on this momentum. I wanted her weaned by my birthday (June 2) anyway. Why not just do this?
I picked her up and we sat in the glider like usual. She looked up at me and whispered, “Boobie?” I didn’t say a word. I held her closer, kissed her forehead, popped her paci back in and rocked my heart out. No protest. She went right back to sleep.
Tonight was another no ask/no offer bedtime.
There’s no telling what midnight will bring. Maybe my luck will run out. Only the universe knows. I’m not ready to celebrate yet.
I am… okay. Mostly. I can tell I’m a bit fragile (for lack of a better word). Hormones are tough. My body has been doing this for 21 months, so it has some adjustments to make.
I’m kind of in shock that we’re here right now. I wanted this, but I thought I had a bit more time. I thought I could take one more picture. I thought I could have one more quiet midnight alone in the dark with my nursling.
The days are long, but then you blink and your tiny squish of a baby is suddenly… not.