Baby T threatened to wean today. I'm not sure what was going on, but all afternoon, he would climb up into my lap, lift my shirt, examine my breast and then turn away. I felt a bit rejected and I felt a bit scared. I asked him, " what's wrong?" and he responded, "NO!" Because at 20 months he doesn't have the words to answer that question.
I went into the bathroom and pulled my shirt off studying my breasts in the mirror to make sure they looked normal. I squeezed them to make sure milk still came out, and squirted myself in the face like a cartoon version of myself. I picked him up towards the end of the evening and offered "milkies" with a little bit of panic in my chest.
I want to breastfeed until he's 2. Truly, I want to go another year, but please... at the very least, another 4 months. C'mon little guy? Don't you want milkies?
I read a study when I was pregnant about multiple sclerosis. Some study done eons ago suggested that breastfeeding past the second year may be preventative against MS. It's a straw but I'm grasping at it in the hopes that my son will never have to go through the pain and suffering that I witnessed his father endure.
In my heart I was begging him to latch on, to keep going for just a while longer... but he wasn't interested. Even at bedtime, I lay down next to him and offered again and he turned his back on me, said, "night night" and settled down to sleep as my heart broke.
Then, just as I was adjusting to the bad news, just as I was comforting myself with the idea of pumping and giving him milkies in a sippy cup for the next 4 months or maybe 6..he turned back to me, reached one tiny arm around my breast and then latched on. I snuggled against his tiny body and felt myself relax...yes son, be a baby just a while longer.. don't grow up too soon.
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