Oh, man. I knew that weaning can be tough. But I have been SUPER WANTING TO DO so for more than a month, and last night was the first night IN THE BABY’S ENTIRE LIFE that I didn’t nurse her at bed time. She settled down decently, and went to sleep, and happily nursed this morning. And I? Am a weepy, frustrated mess. Sure, some of that is work related (all jobs, no matter how overall lovely, have less lovely weeks), and some due to a cold I picked up in Toronto. But not all of it, I’m sure. I hate times where I have to fuck around with my hormones, which is why I refuse to go on the pill and will only use a hormone free IUD. (Which I owe you a story about eventually.) The domperidone pills mess not only mess with my cycle, but also suppresses dopamine. You know, dopamine, which according to our good friend wikipedia, “has many functions in the brain, including important roles in behavior and cognition, voluntary movement, motivation, punishment and reward, inhibition of prolactin production (involved in lactation and sexual gratification), sleep, dreaming, mood, attention, working memory, and learning.” So, you know, everything. And I’ve been on them for like 9 months.
I’ve gone from 8 pills a day in the beginning, then down to 4, and recently been dropping it down to 2, and yesterday I just took 1.
And I’m weepy and sore and my sinuses hurt and I didn’t take a pill this morning so my breasts are empty and I know that without the drugs, there is no milk, and without the milk, there is no nursing, and 2 weeks ago that sounded like a blessing and today that just makes me sad. No more little monkey lapbaby cuddles while she eats. No more easy nutrition. No more easily filling in any gaps in her diet. (That one is a huge, huge thing.) No more quiet easy intimacy and bonding – the kind I personally only really found in nursing. (Not that there’s not all kinds of other bonding and cuddles and loving! They’re just so much more active. Baby’s not a huge cuddle-er right now – too much to see and do.)
I’ve breast fed for 14 months. I’ve required medical assistance for 9 of them. The baby’s back on track for weight and growth. I’ve done fine, this is fine. The next step is a good thing, not a bad thing. I know these things, I keep telling myself these things. I’m just, you know, hormonal as fuck in the mean time.