I'm weaning Emmy. Weaned her, I guess. She's no longer nursing, at all.
She's pretty pissed about it.
I'm okay with that.
It was just time, you know? For me, anyway. The girl eats like nobody's business, and drinks (soy - because somehow I lost my nerve after Silas' allergies, even though she eats cheese and yogurt every day. Don't ask me to explain this logic, it doesn't exist) milk from a sippy cup. She was only nursing to fall asleep at bedtime and in the middle of the night. And yes, she was (is?) still waking up in the middle of the night to nurse. Because I am a pushover like that.
I'm a lot of things to my children, friends, and I make a lot of sacrifices willingly - happily - for my kids' sake. But my stint as a pacifier is over.
So I pulled the plug, no pun intended. No final nostalgic nursing moment, just a decision. I'm done. We're done. She'll be fine.
And she has been more or less okay. She woke up once in the middle of the night - I held her, rocked her briefly, then put her back to bed awake. She only cried a few minutes before falling back asleep. Same with going to bed at night. We have a new Big Girl bedtime routine, and it does not include nursing (or a cup of milk, because for whatever reason my kids have never found sippy cups to be as comforting as their infantile counterparts). The first night she, shall we say, griped a little. But she settled down quickly and was asleep within fifteen minutes.
It's the in-between times ... the late afternoons, when the girl just cannot be appeased, when I think she's the most bothered by it. I am almost certain if I nursed her for forty three seconds, she would be satisfied, and happily play with toys while I cook dinner. But if I do that randomly at 4 p.m., but refuse at 4 a.m., am I not just confusing her? Isn't it better to say, sorry, baby, that ship has sailed? My momstinct says yes.
My screaming toddler disagrees.
In a house of many small children, someone is always pissed at their mom. So be it.