so ... it's over.
cora is finished nursing ...
her cut off age was two years old ... which i know seems oddly late to many of you ... go ahead ... judge. but ...
oh ... never mind ... no buts. i don't have to explain myself, do i?
but i probably will ... to some extent.
i was blessed with two girly-girls that never wanted to wean. they never decided that stopping nursing was a choice of theirs. and both times ... i've had to enforce the decision to stop nursing at the age of two. for that last year ... they both only nursed at bedtime. or when they were sick. and there have been moments in their last year of nursing where i was so glad that i stuck with it. both had a rough patch of illness ... where their only means of nourishment came from mama.
and i don't know if it's this whole guilty feeling working mama thing ... but i felt ... proud that i was able to give them that ... when i often feel like there is so much that i can't and don't give them.
in the end ... stella was a breeze. she was just done. no questions asked. she was ok with it.
cora is ... well ... cora is herself. she's not yet totally thrilled with this new method of rocking to sleep.
two nights ago ... she pleaded with tears in her eyes. i told her that she's a big girl now ... and big girls drink from cups ... she said, "oh." and closed her eyes.
i watched a tear slowly etch it's way down her cheek.
my heart. broke.
i realized that i miss it too. maybe even more than she does.
nursing her into a sleepful oblivion felt maternal and warm.
this feels so ... detached.
maybe it's the wildly out of control hormones ... with that time-of-the-month impending (hi dad!) and the hormonally out-of-whack end of nursing.
or maybe ... i think i miss it, too ... because i have no firm idea if that is going to be how i'm going to end my baby-time. my husband is pretty solid in his idea that we aren't having any more children. but cora doesn't feel like my last baby. i absolutely don't feel done.
and it's oh-so-much harder when you have a little in your lap and the lights are low ... and she asks in a pipsqueak of a voice. with a tug on my shirt ... and a please at the end.
the end of this nursing era ... is breaking my heart.
please excuse me while i go and cry in the corner for awhile. and now that i hit publish ... and took a look at the blog ... and her face popped up just below this post ... i just have to say ohgod i love that girl ... we'll be ok baby ... we will.