I’m officially a weaner now. Wilder will be a year old soon and I’m doing my 12 months of breastfeeding and I’m out! (quit judging me, you LLL devotees … and I won’t judge you for nursing your toddlers) I’m cutting out one feeding a day for a week at a time leading up to the big birthday. It feels like it’s time. I planned from the get go to go one year and while I certainly want to quit for selfish reasons, as of late I sense strongly that he is ready as well. (Really, he is. I’m not imaging it because I’d rather drink my own breast milk than use a pump again. Or because I’ve been bitten six times. SIX TIMES. Not that I’m counting …)
Today, Daddy Bedgood gave him a mixture of breast milk and goat’s milk for the first time ever. AND HE TOOK IT! When I headed to do some work today I felt like someone who was in jail looking forward to getting off for good behavior. Would he take the bottle? Would he be one of those babies that refuses anything but the real deal? Would I have to keep pumping? O … woe is me! The pumping! So, my hearing went well today. I amgoing to get off for good behavior. Looks like my plan may work without much of a fight and I can pack up that blasted pump in just a few short sweet sweet weeks.