Weaned

And so the inevitable transition has come and gone. The last evening of night nursing was on Monday. It was not a deliberate decision, there was no withholding, there was no refusal. It was simply no longer a necessary parts of our bedtime routine. And just as every milestone reached thus far, it was just the next right thing to do, as if it hardly required any thought.

If it weren't for my mild anxiety about traveling half way across the country, where the time change and climate differences may make bedtime less easy, I would hardly have noticed. But because he last time we traveled to an unfamiliar climate, the transition was torturous, I dreaded changing anything about our better than perfect bedtime routine. I admit, we are spoiled, after he is changed into his sleep suit, we read either read a book or watch the blinking butterfly sing in the dark before I sing or hum a little tune myself and then he falls asleep in my arms. The whole process is takes 10 minutes. Sometimes I'll spend 15-20 minutes holding him and listening to his breath before I put him in his crib because there is no better place to fill ones soul with love and awe and selflessness than wrapped around a sleeping son.

I don't feel any less attached to him, our closeness is unchanged. I am sorry that I won't be doing anything further to support his immune system, and even while writing this a few fleeting thoughts of doubt are crossing my mind for the sake of better health. But, I have tried to override the timing of mother nature without success. And I am so grateful to be reminded that what is meant to happen will just naturally happen - I know that not every mother has this experience.