49 posts later and more hours than I can count spent with my shirt up by my chin, the Milky Way has finally come to an end.
While I have mixed feelings about the entire 18-month breastfeeding experience, I'm glad I did it.
Through breastfeeding, I created this incredible bond with my baby and demolished any chance I may ever have for a good rack.
You take the good with the bad, I guess.
When something huge happens, you never realize at the time that it's huge. It just happens.
I didn't set a date for C to stop nursing, he just did. One day he did and the next he didn't.
He and I were both getting tired of it.
When he would nurse, he squirmed around more than anything and I waited until I could distract him long enough to put my boobs up.
So one day, he tried and I said no, and that was it.
It was over.
There wasn't anything grand or traumatic about it.
It just stopped.
I think I will keep my blog though. It's fun when I get the chance to write in it and I hope people have fun reading it. Maybe I will just make a few changes and call it a day. I don't know yet.
When I spend every day typing others' stories and staring at a computer, I'm not really down with writing on my off time. Plus, when C finally goes to sleep, I'm usually not far behind.
Our little family is making big changes and, at times, it can be overwhelming. Of course the big moments, the ones that matter, are the ones we trudge through and don't think about until it's over.
Now that Connor has passed most of his milestones, I find new things to worry about:
Is he eating enough?
Is he talking enough?
Is he saying, "Shit?"
Is he going to say it at daycare?
Why doesn't he run to me when I come get him from daycare?
Am I a terrible mother for working full-time?
Would I be a terrible mother if he didn't interact with other kids?
Are we going to have more kids?
It's like I have a thousand tabs open in my brain at once and I'm not able to exit out of them.
I'm constantly worried that something isn't quite right or that even though every other kid in the world is in a front-facing car seat, Connor should still be rear-facing.
There's also this tragic realization that I'm no longer able to eat like a 5-year-old because I can't gorge on sugar without feeling like I may die.
...and my metabolism seems to be like high school friendships that suddenly stop.
At the end of the day, I simultaneously want to be alone and with my family, I want a hot shower and a relaxing bath, I want to lose 20 pounds and eat the entire package of cookies in the kitchen, I want Connor to sleep in his crib and snuggle with me in bed.
When it all comes down to it, I want time with my husband and to never lose a moment with my little boy. I want a career and I want to be the best mother possible. I want to sleep and I want to get the rest of my to-do list done. There's just no winning.
So I keep running, metaphorically speaking.
Welcome to parenthood.
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