Calliope and I traveled to the Bay Area for four days (more on that later) over Memorial Day weekend, leaving Amelie behind for the first time. She had a fabulous time vacationing in the Poconos with our nanny Susie and her large family, getting thoroughly spoiled in the process.
Before the trip, we were down to nursing once a day -- I eliminated the bedtime nursing a month ago because Amelie was so distracted by her sister and popping on and off, which was uncomfortable. I also stopped taking any supplements a while ago. But she still seemed to get a decent feeding in the mornings, judging by her swallowing.
So I dutifully brought my breast pump along to San Francisco, "hello my old friend the breast pump, I have missed you!" said no one, ever. I used it the first morning and got two ounces, not terrible. The next morning I discovered that, d'oh!, I had left some breast pump parts behind, drying by the hotel bathroom sink. Not sure how I missed them but it seems I lost things regularly along every leg of our journey. Hello, Mommy Brain! So I spent $40 on a painful, ineffective hand pump. Great. And got only one ounce.
The next day was about the same. The last night I got my lost breast pump parts back and actually pumped the next morning on the airplane! Totally bad ass. I wasn't courageous enough to pump both sides at the same time so perhaps as a result, still only got one ounce.
I came home, desperate to see my baby again, and was thrilled to be rewarded with happy chortles and joyful clapping. Phew, she wasn't mad at me! And she even remembered how to nurse the next day. Another sigh of relief.
But this morning, the second morning home, she nursed only a minute then sat up and said "bye bye!" and waved her hand happily. She didn't attempt to latch again. And happily took a bottle a few minutes later.
I could keep trying, could start up supplements again... but I think this is as good a time as any. I'm sad. I wasn't quite ready. But perhaps quitting on her terms is more fair than letting me dictate the time. She's happy and healthy and eating up a storm. Thank goodness I can still cuddle her for a bottle. I know I should be stopping them, too, but I also know I won't -- I'm not ready for my last baby to grow up. Selfish, probably. It won't be the last, or worst, of my selfish acts as a parent, I am sure.