Transitions
Mom, you might not want to read this one.
My husband is a boob man. As such, he has done an admirable job biding his time while I’ve nurse our daughter for the past eight+ months. In the early days, when my nipples were so sore even taking a shower was painful, he wasn’t allowed anywhere near them. When I was nursing heavily and pumping regularly, he was forced to keep a distance if I was a little sensitive due to long moments of overstimulation. Lately, during times of frustration when I’ve aired my ambivalence about continuing to breastfeed, he has strongly encouraged me in one direction. You can probably imagine which one.
So when Signe started letting me know in ways subtle (nursing less) and not so subtle (full-on biting my nipple) that she is SO over this whole nursing thing, GTB, natch, was giddy.
As clear as it is that it’s time for me to stop breastfeeding, I’m emotional and a little hurt about it. It’s difficult not to feel a little rejected when you place in her mouth the one thing that gave your baby her early sustenance and are rewarded by a razor-sharp clamping down and gnawing, which Signe did yesterday when I was putting her down for a nap.
“Then, a few minutes later, I tried again and she sucked for a few seconds then turned away,” I recalled to GTB. “But when I gave her a bottle, she guzzled three ounces in mere minutes.”
GTB listened patiently.
“She is obviously done with breastfeeding. And I know you don’t understand why I’m so emotional about it. But I thought we’d be able to transition a little more slowly. I didn’t want to feel this rejected.”
That was enough for GTB. “Why don’t you give your nipples to someone who will appreciate them and love them and treat them nicely?!” he bellowed, only half in jest.
So I guess as soon as the painful engorgement and potential for mastitis passes, my nipples will once again be GTB’s.