I did a freezer inventory last night, and discovered I had three and a half weeks worth of milk for day care. Considering my daughter is going to be one in two weeks, I decided I would start weaning off my pump early, starting with my pre-bedtime pumping session.
I've already mentioned how much I was looking forward to weaning off the pump, but now that I'm actually doing it, I'm feeling all sorts of feelings. Like anxiety. Sadness. Regret. Emptiness. Aimlessness. So I'm trying to process why.
Up to now, breastfeeding has largely defined me as a mother. I have worked incredibly hard to maintain breastfeeding. I leave work every two hours because of it. I shun social engagements because of it. My wardrobe and my diet are governed by it. I think about it all the time. I talk about it constantly. I do it everywhere. So if I stop pumping, I'm acknowledging the eventual end of breastfeeding. It's the only thing that only I can give to my daughter. So if I can't breastfeed, then like, anyone could take care of her. I'm no better than the daycare worker or a babysitter or my husband or my mom or the Jamaican lady at church. So if I stop, when I stop, what does that mean for my relationship with my daughter?
Every night, around 3:00 am, my daughter starts chatting and eventually whining until get up and retrieve her from her crib. She stands up and reaches for me, and by the light of the nightlight we cuddle and nurse in the rocking chair. She oscillates between waking and sleeping, occasionally reaching up to touch my face or stroke my hair. I comb her hair with my fingers and beam over how rosy her cheeks get from being pressed against my skin. When her belly is finally full, she reaches back and stretches her arms over her head. I always kiss her chin, because it's toasty and sweet. And when I lay her back in her crib, she snuggles her ghostie and waves bye-bye to me through a sleepy smile.
These are some of my favorite moments with my daughter, and these are some of the moments that will never be documented in photos or videos. These are the moments I will want to convey to her when she is exhausted with a newborn and sobbing about lack of sleep and sore breasts and bad latches. And these are the moments I'm not ready to let go. I could wean her off her nighttime feed. Lord knows I could use the sleep, but this time is so brief. And while I'm so excited to hear my daughter's thoughts verbalized and see her grow into a girl with autonomy and ambitions, I relish that she needs me. Wants me. One day she won't, as one day I did not want or need my own mother (though now I want and need her more than I can remember). And I'm not ready. But time is unforgiving, and moves forward without approval. Dot will not remember any of this, and she will rather define me based on my decisions when she is 5 and 8 and 15. But right now, this is all we know, and I'm having a hard time imagining it any other way. All I've known have been nighttime feedings and cozy mornings and quiet corners. Fortunately, I have a patient and independent child who is willing to teach me that there is so much more to being a mother than breastfeeding. Hopefully I'm a fast learner.
