The beginning of the end

Its bedtime at my house.  My baby is upstairs crying, sobbing like her heart is breaking.  No, she's not alone, her daddy is holding her and rocking her with all the love in the world, but what she wants, he can't give.  And its come to the point where neither can I.

You see, I have held high ideals when it came to mothering.  I was blessed to be able to breastfeed exclusively for the first basically eight months of Eden's life.  Yes, the first month was pretty much torture (despite doing "everything right") but by six weeks, the pain was gone and it was amazing and gratifying to watch her prosper so generously and know that it was all coming from my milk.  Yes, it is was a sacrifice of time and energy and body and self, but it was so worth it!  Even after starting the solids, nursing has been a special bond, a (frequent!) time of relaxation and connection, a blessing of peace and a way to push the re-set button on the world, if you will.  The touch of her little hands, holding soft little toes in my other hand, her bright eyes peering up at me, the contented milk-drunk sprawl and sigh replete with all things good - I count this time as a precious blessing.

But, she now has three teeth.  And more than that, I am well into the first trimester of pregnancy, which...does things to your body.  Makes everything that was used for nursing much more tender, to say the least.  So its pretty much torture again.  Even that wouldn't stop us, hasn't stopped us, but now I am finding that I have no more milk to give her and that she is sad and frustrated and confused at the change.  So we both have suffered through hours of trying to nurse, trying to comfort, and then starting over again.  I'm not worried about her food intake, as she does eat plenty and drink well from a sippy cup during the waking hours.  But my heart breaks to hear her cry, to know what she wants, and to not be able to provide it for her anymore.

We got a bottle.  She drank about 2 oz. and refused to take anymore, but went to sleep with rocking and singing.  It's the second wake-up that got us, the one where she likes to just roll into me and latch on, half-asleep, for a warm, cuddly, easy-back-to-sleep dream feed.  She did NOT want the bottle, she was not happy with me, and now, half an hour later, she's almost asleep, but still crying periodically, on daddy's chest.

Now, I'm not really asking for advice.  I know its not the end of the world, and that babies live through weaning at ages both younger and older than mine.  I am incredibly thankful for the loving and supportive daddy that my husband is to my daughter, and know that she is safe and will be fine in his arms.  And I am thankful that we have been able to share this precious nursing relationship for as long as we have.

I'm just mourning, a little, the end of that.  The end of being able to be all things to this precious little being.  Its really incredible to consider that for eighteen months now, 9 within and 9 without, I have been able to (almost completely) provide for the physical, emotional, mental, and other needs of my baby!  I love that! I have loved that!  I am glad for the support I've been given that's allowed me to do so, and I hope its been a blessing for my Eden as well, but now that time is at an end.  I applaud those who can continue to nurse their little ones through a new pregnancy, but I just can't, and I have to accept that, and realize that this is specific to nursing and yet symbolic of my whole role of parenting.

I love my daughter more than I knew I could.  If I could, I would always make her life good, always provide for her needs, always be there to comfort and fulfill and in every way, bless her life.  I have to accept that I can't.  I do the best I can, and up til now its been pretty close to possible (though a sacrifice) but she will only continue to slowly move out of my ability to be all things to her, as she should.  I sorrow for her sorrow at not being able to nurse, even knowing that it is a temporary sorrow that she will not ever consciously remember.  I'm sure that I will sorrow all the more at the struggles and trials and losses she faces with maturity.

I can't be it all.  But I do know who can.  So my highest goal is to point her to Him.  Maybe a little deep for a simple weaning, but I'm feeling pretty tender about it right now.  Who knew how much it hurt to hear your child cry and not be able to give them what they want?!