Quitting...

My daughter is quitting me.

It started slowly, stealthily even. Feedings became shorter. She was more interested in smiling (and biting, I might add) than in the actual eating part.

She used to love my chest. Now she's indifferent.

I don't like being abandoned.

I remember so many times when I wanted so badly to be done with the whole process. I remember nursing her in the handicapped stall of the Olive Garden downtown -- the whole time thinking to myself, "I'm missing everything. I'm humiliated. I'm uncomfortable." I remember being too embarrassed to nurse in front of anyone but Reece and my mom, especially right after she was born, so I would just lock myself in her nursery for what seemed like hours on end, just waiting for her to finally decide she was full. I remember crying the first time I tried to nurse her in the mother's [closet] at church, both of us struggling to feel comfortable and natural. I remember crying even more the first time I had to pump at work. It was bad enough to do it at home, but doing it at work was almost more than I could take.

But my occasional nursing woes were overwhelmingly squashed by my absolute adoration of the experience. I remember the first time the lactation specialist grabbed me, grabbed my girl and stuck us together (Reece never looked so terrified). I remember taking off her little onesie and tucking her into my hospital gown, both of us figuring things out together. I remember when it became second nature to both of us. I didn't even mind getting up numerous times in the middle of the night. I almost looked forward to it.

This was something I, and I alone, could do for my baby, and I loved the sense of accomplishment and pride I got from doing my job well.

I was lucky enough to nurse Lola for 5 months. Though it was difficult at times, I really did love it. I loved the closeness it provided. I was amazed at what my body could do. I loved our routine -- pulling her into bed with me every morning to nurse, then falling asleep together for another hour or so before getting up for the day. Then at night -- reading our books, singing our songs and sharing a night cap (my drink of choice was generally DDP, just to clarify) before tucking her into bed.

I know I shouldn't feel guilty. I know it's important to make sure she's getting the nourishment she needs. I know formula will do the trick. Not to mention the previously highlighted avocados (see post below).

What I didn't know, however, was that my daughter quitting me would hurt this much.

I'm devastated, and that's the honest truth.