With no warning whatsoever, baby Eli has chosen to stop nursing. I tried feeding him yesterday morning, and he turned his head this way and that before reaching out and biting me for emphasis. Not wanting to give up too easily, I tried again in the afternoon, only to have him threaten to bite me again, and then turn his attention to playing with the buckle on my belt.
He will be 11 months old next week, and that is by far the longest I’ve ever nursed. With the other four, it was *me* who wanted to close up shop after 4, 5, or 6 months. Eli has enjoyed nursing so much, though, and I’ve had what feels like more time and opportunity to oblige. It’s been a great bonding experience, and at times has been my own secret weapon when needing to calm or comfort him.
He’s had bottles on and off for the last several months, so it hasn’t been much of an adjustment for him. He eats so much solid food now – three meals a day, a couple of snacks through the afternoon – that he really only drinks 20-24 ounces of formula anyway. And after next month we can just switch straight over to whole milk.
I’m only the slightest bit sad by the change. In fact, the most urgent sense of pain is not emotional, but physical! My body is slow to realize that the demand for milk is just not there anymore, so I’m still producing like mad. Can I just say, my “personal space” has gotten a whole lot bigger! No hugs or accidental collisions, please! Woman in HyperLactation Here! Ouch.