Zoe and I stopped nursing a few weeks ago. I thought it was going to be a traumatic event for her and had put it off since we found out I was pregnant because I didn’t know how to do it without a lot of upset.
But then one day, we just did it. Didn’t give her a bottle, didn’t nurse her, nothing. She got a sippy cup with milk and that was it.
I was ready for tears. I was ready for naptime and bedtime to turn into a sobbing, messy disaster.
Instead, she didn’t care.
Apparently she was ready to stop nursing. I was the one who ended up taking it hard. It’s always been our thing — every nap and bedtime was always my job – and she would nurse and get sleepy and play with her hair while I played Scrabble on my iPhone. For 15 months that was our routine. Giving it up was another sign — on a daily list of growing signs — that my little baby is growing up.
But now we have a new routine. We read a few books while she guzzles milk, then she turns around, throws her arms around my neck and cuddles in close while I sing her a song or two from her lullaby CD. Then in the crib she goes with no complaint, one arm wrapped around a stuffed animal. She tucks her feet under her and sticks her little butt straight up in the air. Love it. It’s so easy and sweet.
Mark has started taking charge at bedtime more often than I do because he loves cuddly Zoe. He said last night she even lifted up her head at one point and gave him a kiss on the lips before nuzzling in close again. Then she started waving bye-bye at him, clearly telling him he’d overstayed his welcome. She was ready for bed.
Our little baby is gone. We have a toddler now.
And now I have to find a new time to play Scrabble.