Made in Richmond

For the last few evenings, JR has spent his last nursing session latching on for about a minute, pulling off, screaming, and diving back in again. Lather, rinse, repeat for about 20 more minutes until he either seems satisfied or gets so worked up that we give him a couple ounces of formula until he’s calmed down.

Adding to that, his other nursing times during the day are becoming a battle. He doesn’t want to sit still, preferring to roll around on the bed over curling up in my lap to eat. He doesn’t get frustrated - he’s just not particularly interested.

The only time it seems that he’s content to nurse is in the morning, and even then, he’s not taking as long as he used to. He gets straight to business and is ready to sit up and play on the bed with his dad. No more sweet baby sighs and curling his fingers around mine as he opens and closes his eyes sleepily.

It is making me so, so sad.

I KNOW! I never thought I would say that, especially after this post. But I am. What was once a struggle (hell, it was like a full time job most days) has become a complete joy most of the time. I know it sounds strange, but nursing JR makes me feel like we’re almost as close as we were when I carried him.

But he’s pulling away. The more I bring him towards me, the harder he pushes back. I know he’s telling me he’s ready for a change, to grow up a little more, to be less of a baby and more like a little boy. And while I know him growing up is a good thing, I don’t think my heart is quite ready to say goodbye to the baby him.

I can’t fully articulate how I’m feeling about this. So I’ll leave it to this talented lady. When I read this for the first time, I nodded a lot and cried even more.