1 Mother 2 Another

Ok, remember how I said I had a weaning
plan ?

New plan, for a couple of reasons.

On
the introducing cow’s milk front, I was having no luck last week. I was
offering it before, during and after a meal, either in a straw cup or a
“grown-up” cup. I offered it cold, not wanting her to expect Mommy to be
heating her milk every day for the next seven years. She’d take a few
sips, grimace, and that was it for the rest of the time period.

I
then tried offering it cold, in a bottle, right before a traditional
nursing time. I thought she’d be sleepy, used to drinking white stuff
from a bottle . . . and just putting it in a bottle was a compromise for
me, let me tell you. I’m reluctant to get her associating cow’s milk
with a bottle – she only takes two bottles a week as it is, and I’m not
too keen on keeping her on a bottle at this age anyway. But I thought it
was worth a shot.

Alas, it was not. 

She eagerly grabbed the bottle when she saw it, even stooping to try to
drink out of it while I was holding it in my other hand. We’d just
played in the park for a while, she was hot and thirsty, it was nap time
– the stars were in alignment. But again, just as at a meal, she’d take
a few sips, make a face, and that was that. With, of course, the added
bonus of making her frustrated while she’s tired and cranky and ready to
nap.

And then I serendipitously fell into what worked, at least
once.

That same day, she didn’t eat much at dinner – I think
she’s moving into her “meat feels gross in my mouth” phase. We were
about half an hour from bedtime and she was cranky, probably hungry as
well as tired. I had left the bottle from nap time in her room by
accident, so it had been out a few hours. When I got it, the bottle was
a bit cool still but closer to room temperature. I thought, “Worth a
shot.”

Yes, I know, I gave her milk that had been sitting
out. Listen, do you know how long it takes milk to go bad? It was ok,
I promise. I tried it.

And you know what? She drank every drop.
So obviously my “no bottle, no warming the milk” thing didn’t last long.

But
that’s just a superficial change to my Weaning Plan. Here’s the biggest
change that I figured out as a result of that incident:

I’m not
going to wean her.

Nope, we’ll just go through life with her
nursing at least once a day. Preferably until high school or braces,
whichever comes first.

We were lying snuggled on the couch while
she drank the cow’s milk bottle, and she looked up from the crook of my
arm and reached up with one finger to touch my face. She often does
that while nursing: she’ll gaze intently at me as her hands move across
my features, like a blind person memorizing my looks. I am so used to
it now that it often doesn’t register anymore; I simply smile at her and
take it for granted.

But I realized that those moments will never
happen if she’s weaned. I’ll lose the snuggle time, yes, that’s true.
I’ve never been too concerned about that, since I’m determined to shower
her with physical affection and not take no for an answer. But I’ll
also lose that intimate, eye-locking connection we have a few times a
day. The deep, silent conversation we have while time holds still for a
few moments is often the best part of my day. I can tell her “I love
you” with a glance, over and over and over, and no one makes fun of me.
And I take it for granted, and that’s unforgivable.

If
she’s staring intently, trying to memorize my face, I’m doing the same
thing back at her, but I’m trying to memorize the whole moment. The
whole year. The whole experience. And I know I can’t; I know the
memory will become fainter until it fades to a vague sensory
recollection bolstered only when I re-read this blog some time in the
future.

I know I’m not ready for that; hence my arrival at
Weaning Plan Take 2: Just Say No.

I’m not serious, of course.
Time moves on, and over the next couple of months, when she’s ready,
she’ll be off on her own. I just didn’t think I’d care so much.