Mommy Guilt and Weaning...it's all as bad as it sounds.

Every milestone we pass as a family with Oliver seems to be the worst. He's never slept the greatest at night but sometimes he'll grace us with a few weeks of sleeping through the night, or at least a 7-8 hour interval, then he'll regress. He always regresses. I don't know what it is about this regression that seems particularly dreadful but maybe it's because I am usually the only one who can soothe him enough to go back to sleep. This is because I breastfeed. During this regression, I have experienced a myriad of mental breakdowns. Most of them have been silent ones that I keep to myself. But Wednesday morning, I got up to the brutal alarm after hitting snooze way too many times and immediately started crying. I mourned the loss of sleep for the past year and a half. I mourned the loss of my husband and our intimacy due to exhaustion and a needy, whiny, colicky child. I mourned the loss of my feeling of self because my entire being was so focused and at the disposal of my child. I mourned the loss of my youthful luster, now replaced with a haggard 29 year old. I mourned the loss of having more time to myself, with my friends, my husband. Wednesday morning was the morning I cried all the way through my shower, while getting ready (I forgoed mascara that day), and all the way to work. I stopped once I got to work, because, if there's anything Joan from Mad Men taught us, you don't bring your personal stuff to work - you leave that at home. Thanks, Joanie. Truthfully, I've learned a lot more from her than that :) So I did what any adult woman and mother would do...I called my mom and cried on the phone with her too. I told her if she couldn't take her grandson, I would not hesitate to call Grandma J and ship him off to the farm for a week. Either scenario would be fine for me, but that was to prove my desperation for needing to be away from him. I had a list of other people in my arsenal, including his Aunt Amanda, cousin Kelly and his bash brother, Sutton, or a couple of friends. My mom understood my urgency for needing to be away from my son and said she would take him for two nights ... consecutively! A year ago, I would have said no way would I want to be away from my baby for that long! Now? I packed his bags immediately and said, "Ollie, you're going to have a sleepover with gwamuh".



Ollie-man in his vintage Easter outfit

Now this fateful Wednesday morning of sobbing, I came to the decision I did not want to breastfeed anymore. My good friend, Breanna, encouraged me by saying I made it further than most moms make it and I should be proud of myself.  Don't get me wrong, I am. But when your child cries incessantly for 'na's!' 'na na's??!!' and rubs his forehead into your chest and pats his chubby little hand on your breasts, the emotional part of it is excrutiating. I am reassured that while breastmilk has served him well into toddlerhood, he does get his needed nutrients elsewhere and this has been an added bonus at this point. My co-worker reminded me that while we as mothers want to reach a certain goal as a parent, sometimes, our mental well-being is more important and that Oliver will benefit from that too. It is at this time that I realized mentally and emotionally, my heart wasn't in it anymore. Ollie was only feeding once or twice in a 24 hour period anyway, so that makes it a little better I suppose. Now onto sleepover time with Grandma.....He didn't sleep any better for her, he woke up 4 times during the night. Today, my parents had things they had to do so I went to their house to pick him up at 4pm today and had him until 815. This sounds terrible... I picked up my kid for a few hours just to drop him back off. We went to the park and that kept him distracted enough that he wasn't asking for na's. Then shit hit the fan when we tried to have supper with Auntie Bethany. I had to get the food to go and get the heck out of there. After an hour straight of crying, one bath later, and a near-to-tears mommy (again!), my dad (who was the only one home at the time) said, 'just go'. He knew that Oliver wasn't going to calm down for me as long as I was there and not giving him the boob. So I ducked out of there like I was leaving a strip club in the daylight. As I drove home, I called my cousin Kelly, who reiterated it was ok, reminded me not to feel guilty. I also remember my co-worker telling me a few weeks ago that she always took vacations without her kids even when they were young because it's important as a mom to have time away to 'regroup. I am trying to remind myself of this as I type this. It is now night two. My boobs are a little sore but not too bad. They haven't been emptied in almost two whole days. So I guess I'm tearful for a few reasons. One, I am admitting that, as a mother, I can't be around my child right now because I am so fatigued and need some sleep. (GUILT) And number two, my incredible, amazing, difficult, sacrificial journey with breastfeeding is coming to a bittersweet end.


A mother's job is never done. Sometimes I cringe when I say motherhood is a job. Guess what? It frickin is, it's hard-ass work. It takes commitment, will power, compassion, love....the list goes on and on. I guess these two nights, I am taking a brief sabbatical. So tonight, I will mourn another loss but look forward to a happy future. I will mourn the loss of a closeness Oliver and I will never ever have again as we are wrapping up our breastfeeding journey. This weekend I am certain will be worse as he likes to have that closeness for nap time as well as bedtime. Please send positive vibes our way and prayers that we will make it through this chapter and that our family will some day get sleep. In the meantime, I have wonderful family and friends who are more than willing to take Oliver so I can regain some sanity.....whatever shreds there are left.