A Night Without Pacifiers

We kept saying we were going to do it--after she turned one, after football season ('cause you know, she's going to have to sleep at her uncle's a lot, and well...), after the Thanksgiving holidays and all the traveling and strange bed sleeping that entailed. All that, and yet, somehow, when it was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and we had no more excuses, it still caught us a little by surprise. "She's still a baby!" we wanted to say. "She's not ready. Maybe after Christmas."

But NO. It was time. We were taking away the pacifiers. So, after her nap, I gathered up all the pacifiers in her room and held them out to her in a small pile in my hand. "Say bye-bye to your pacifiers," I said. "Say bye-bye, paci."

"Buh-buh, basee." (Which, ironically, is a word she only picked up last week.)

Then, while she watched, I put all of the pacifiers on the top shelf in her closet and closed the door. She continued to wave bye-bye to her "basees" for a little while, and she asked for them again while bouncing in her crib later that evening. (Yes, we let our kid jump on her bed. Don't judge. It makes her happy, and it's not like we were going to be keeping that little crib mattress forever anyway.) This was all preliminary, though. We all knew the real test was yet to come.

Fast-forward to 7 p.m. We'd brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas, read Good Night Moon (twice, I think), and she'd said good night to Daddy (meaning she said "Buh-buh" to him and waves all the way down the hallway). I put her in bed, told her I love her, and left, closing the door behind me. Then, we waited. At first, there was silence, but then the silence turned to whimpering. You could hear her (on the monitor) rummaging around in her crib, searching desperately for the pacifiers, any pacifier, so she can relax and go to sleep. Finally, the screaming started. Huge, loud, gulping sobs came roaring out of the monitor. We sat and stared at each other. After five minutes or so, I couldn't take it anymore, and I went in to rub her back, soothe her, etc.

This went on for about 30 minutes. I soothed, I left, she screamed, until finally, she cried herself to sleep. Strangely, she never once actually asked for a "basee." Perhaps she was too traumatized for words. It was heartbreaking, but we really felt like it was time to leave the pacifier behind. I've read that the older they get, the harder it gets to take them away, and at a certain point, you can screw up their teeth, and since Maddie sleeps a-lot, she technically had a pacifier in her mouth more than half the day. With this last point in mind, I insisted that we go to bed early, convinced that she would be up two or three times during the night.

Ahhhh, it's amazing what 9+ hours of sleep can do for you... I did hear her whine a couple times during the night, but she always went right back to sleep. What's more, her nap at daycare, sans "basee" went off without a hitch. She went to sleep on her own and slept her normal 2.5 hours. Last night, it was only six minutes of crying before she went to sleep, and I think that's because she was very, very sleepy. Of course, now that I've blog-bragged about what an easy-going kid we have, she'll probably take it to a whole new level tonight. Regardless, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for sweet, paci-free dreams.

Of Weaning and Whining (and Wining and Sushi)

WARNING: This post contains very detailed information about breastfeeding and weaning. If you feel that this is something you may be uncomfortable with, please do not read this post. If you do read it and are subsequently offended or unsettled, the writer and other contributors to this blog take no responsibility for your lack of judgement.

So, it's official. Maddie is weaned and I am, for the time being, finished breastfeeding. Since I know there are several people who read this blog who are breastfeeding or will be breastfeeding, I thought it might be helpful to outline the process a little since I, for one, had a lot of trouble finding information on weaning when I needed it. Well, sort of. I could find information on weaning a baby. What I couldn't find information on was weaning a mom. I found article after article on cutting back on feedings slowly, introducing the bottle, etc., but I found one, seriously ONE, article on what I should expect as I went from milk factory to empty barn. (It was on Babble, of course.)

Anyway, basically, I began cutting back on feedings in June. I went from pumping three times a day to pumping twice a day and then once a day and then not at all during the day. We switched Maddie to goat's milk and then cow's milk, and aside from the fact that she still refuses to drink cow's milk out of a sippy-cup (coming soon to Webster-Stoppel Family, the epic saga of Bottle vs. Cup!), it went very well. In fact, from her perspective, I was sort of sad that she didn't seem to miss me or my milk more. In reality, Jon and I were actually quite glad the transition was smooth. I eventually got to the point where I was only nursing her morning and night, then only in the morning, and on the morning of her birthday party, I nursed her for the last time, and that was it. Out of business.

As for what my body did, well, it wasn't quite that smooth. Aside from the actual shutting down, going from pumping twice a day to pumping once a day was the most difficult. I chose to cut feedings out over the weekends, so I wouldn't be sitting at my desk at work leaking through my clothes, but that meant there were several times during the weekends that I was in some other public place hoping I didn't leak through my clothes. And yes, it's painful, although, not as painful as some descriptions I've heard. My breasts were rock solid, unmoving, hot, and painful. I did not want to be touched, and by the end of it all, raising my arms over my head hurt. Getting dressed in the morning was challenging, and following The Last Supper (or breakfast as the case may be), I wore sports bras for a week solid.

Then, strangely, after a week of pain, clogged ducts about which I could do nothing, embarrassingly large breasts, ill-fitting tops, and disrupted sleep, everything just went away. By the Sunday following our last feeding session, my breasts were still very sore, but they weren't massive and immovable. By Monday, it was over. As for the aftermath, it's not too bad. (She writes while tilting her head a little and squinting, trying to decide how she really feels.) Yes, my breasts are smaller and they seem to have lost a little, um, elasticity, but they're not flat as pancakes and hanging out in the vicinity of my belly-button, either. Plus, I'm actually thinner now than I was before I got pregnant, so who's to say some of this wouldn't have happened anyway, baby or no. Regardless, though, I will admit that it's taking some getting used to. I'd become accustomed to my larger bust-line, and now instead of the ladies seeming smaller, I feel like everything else got bigger. It's a weird scale, perspective thing, and I have to keep reminding myself that I probably didn't gain five pounds in a week.

Emotionally, I don't think I experienced any major hormone shifts at the end, but you may need to check with Jon. I was a little "pissy" for a week or so, but I don't remember it being too out of control. I will say that I was surprised by how emotional I had become about nursing. While it was going on, I never really felt one way or another about it. It was something that needed to be done, and sometimes I was happy to do it, and sometimes it was a huge inconvenience, truthfully. However, the first night I didn't nurse her before she went to bed, the urge to do so was very strong. I really, really wanted to, and I had to keep reminding myself that I had to quit at some point. Plus, she was ready. She'd been ready for a while.

As for the sushi part of the title, to put a positive spin on weaning and celebrate some of the activities I can now return to whole-heartedly, Jon, some friends, and I are going out for cocktails and sushi this Saturday--cocktails because I mostly avoided hard alcohol while I was breastfeeding (and before anyone flips out, I was very careful to wait appropriate amounts of time or pump and dump even when drinking wine and beer), and sushi because it's best to avoid the whole raw fish thing while you're feeding another person, bacteria and all that.

And so it ends, and I can stop writing warning labels for so many posts, unless, of course, Maddie decides to repeat the "Great Poo Incident of 2009"...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to burn my nursing bras. Those things were awful.