And Just Like That. It's Over.

Well friends, it's done. Breastfeeding. It's over. {For all my male followers, this might be TMI. Fair warning.}

What I thought early on would feel like a burden lifted feels more like a sad event. And to be honest, I'm mourning the end of it.

You see, he can now sustain life without me. He drinks regular milk and eats everything we eat and no longer needs his mama for sustenance. For the first time in his existence, he doesn't need me. I want to cry a little just thinking about it.

We stopped feeding March 1st and Benjamin never looked back. He's independent, yet still needs snuggles. But the milk? He's never clawing at me for any and screeches with intense back arches when I try to get him to breastfeed. Only sometimes does he allow for it, but most of the time he squirms away like I'm injuring him. With that reason, I decided to allow him to make his own decisions about it and we went down to two feeds. Then within a few days, he was ready for just one feed. My body quickly understood the process and the milk has sort of stopped.

He hasn't fed at all in three days and I'm back to wearing regular bras {albeit smaller ones. sigh}. Just like that. The cow's-milk-drinking, peanut-butter-eating little dude remains unphased by the whole event. But deep inside, his mama is totally sad about this coming of age business.

I'm trying to tell myself that there are such wonderful freedoms that come with this weaning for both of us, like the ability to leave him longer than an 8-hour stretch of time without feeling like my breasts are physically going to burst or he'll starve to death (neither of which would happen, but for dramatic's sake, can we just pretend?). It's nice to know others can watch him without the mama milk requirement, and it doesn't require me sitting down to feed when he wants milk. The independence is sort of freeing, I guess.

We already know the emotional aspect for me, but I'm also equally terrified about airplane rides and other events when my breast can no longer be the savior to get the baby to stop melting down (though it was losing its effectiveness, to be honest). We'll just have to rely on a hope and a prayer and lots and lots of snacks.

My goal was a year and we made it... but barely. He was showing signs of the end in the 11th month when he couldn't be bothered to drink for very long at all. He's got things to do and he's not afraid to express his opinion.

I already miss it. I have a feeling this won't be the first time I feel sadness over my little boy growing up. I am thankful he's thriving, but boy do I already miss that little squish that needed his mama to survive.