Baby Boy is 10 months old today. Ten whole months!
And he only drinks a live feed in the morning these days...
I'm okay with that. Which surprises me. One day, a couple of weeks ago, I gave up the struggle of trying to feed live during the day, and it felt like a release. It seems that you really do get to a point where it's okay. Which gives me hope. I hope that I will find myself okay with the idea of the End of Breastfeeding one day. Because that day is coming. I can smell it in the air like I can smell autumn around the corner. And it makes me sad. I'm not okay with that. Yet.
I'm so not okay with it, that I waste way too much precious time on expressing milk during the day, just to keep up production for a good morning feed. And that makes me sad, too.
I'm on a swing here. Part of me thinks I'm mad. That part is getting ready to throw in the towel some day soon. The rest of me isn't. The rest of me is sad. The rest of me wants to keep on breastfeeding forever. It wants Baby Boy to stay small, be cute & drink a live feed.
I know the rest of me isn't very realistic. A tad dramatic. Very sweet, but a bit away with the fairies. But part of me loves the rest of me, and the rest of me wins. For now.
It will last until it's okay to stop.