The Farrar Four

I initially had plans for a Marshmellow Game Post, then when I got to school, there was a Happy Gram on his clip board so I thought I'd post that...but tonight, tonight plans have changed. 

I have a lump in my throat.  My nose is tingling. 

Saturday when we left Florida on the way home from vacation, last Saturday (23rd) to be exact, I didn't nurse Easton in the morning.  We got up and got busy packing up the car and he was happy with milk and blueberries, so I left it at that.  Sunday.  Same.  Monday.  A little whimper when we walked past his rocking chair as if to say 'wait mom, don't you want to sit down?"  Tuesday still a whimper.  Wednesday.  Fine. 

At night's I've been giving him a cup of milk with supper and what he doesn't finish I save it for after his bath and he gets it before bed.  Before I nurse him.  Most nights he drinks it all. 

So, for the past 2 weeks, we'll walk in the living room, tell Daddy 'night night' and go get a passi out of the cabinet, get our cup of milk and head to his room.  Once in his room, we turn on the noise maker, turn on his lullabies CD that has played every night since his birth and turn his lamp off.  Routine.  We like routine. 

I put the milk on the side of his crib and offer it to him one last time before I nurse.  I assumed I didn't have much milk left, so I thought this way he'd go to bed with a full tummy. 

And most nights, we'd rock.  We'd kiss.  He'd be still for 2 seconds for me to love on him. I'd tell him how much I love him.  I'd ask him if he knew.  I'd ask him if he loved momma. He'd shake his head yes.  Every time.  We'd make goo-goo eyes at each other as if it was the first time we'd looked into each others eyes, with that connection that only we share.  Say our prayers.  But without fail he'd pull out his passi, hand it to me, say ta-tu (thank you), and tug at my shirt.  And I'd nurse him.  Right side, then left.  He'd slowly drift off to sleepy town.  Every time.  I'd stand up, hold him a little closer, kiss his cheek and whisper 'I love you' in his ear.  I'd lay him down, he'd roll to his left and put his arms under him.  He'd settle in and I'd leave the room. 

But tonight.  Tonight most of that was the same, except one part.  Tonight, I cuddled him against me.  I laid my head on his head.  I closed my eyes and just waited for him to hand me his passi.  I heard his breath slowing.  I looked down and his eyes were shut.  I kept rocking thinking he'd lean back and do the same thing he has for nights now.  But then I heard it.  His passi clicked.  It fell out.  He was sound asleep.  The kind of sleep that has in the past only come after that left side.  But tonight, tonight he didn't need that. 

I sat there and felt the sting in my eyes.  I felt it coming.  Someone turned on the water works.  I prayed that if the Lord wanted me to nurse him that he'd wake up on his own and hand me his passi.  He didn't.  I cried some more.  I sat there and rocked.  Longer than normal.  And cried.  And rocked.  And cried some more.  I put him up on my shoulder. I kissed his cheek and whispered my same 'I love you' that I've whispered for many nights now.  I laid him in his bed.  I just knew his head would pop up once I laid him down.  Nope.  Without fail...he rolled to his left, tucked his arms up under him and drifted back to sleep. 

My baby.  My baby went to sleep without my milk tonight.  If it's going to happen, which it is, I prayed it would happen like this.  That I wouldn't have to wean him, that he'd do it on his own.  So, I know it's how it should go.  How I prayed for it to go.  But its still hard. It still makes my stomach hurt.

I came out of his room and shut the door.  Lance could hear the crying from down the hallway.  He looked confused and asked me what was wrong.  I told him my story.  He held me and let me cry.  He doesn't understand, but he understands. 

It was such a struggle for me in the beginning, is he getting enough milk, how much, how often, etc but I am so glad that we worked through it.  Lance was right there with me every step of the way.  Getting up with me many times in those first few months, laying on the floor while I'd nurse our new baby.  It was a group effort.   He was my cheerleader.  I love those memories. 

I have WAY to much to say about breastfeeding so I'll save that for another posts. 

But, tonight as I calculated, because you know I like to know numbers, last night's feeding was the 500th night since he was born that I nursed him! (minus maybe 5 nights that someone other than me, has put him to sleep- with my breastmilk).  WOW!  Lords timing?  I think so.  I'm sure if I took enough time I could tell you exactly how many times I nursed and pumped over those past 500 days.  In my spare time I'll try to work on that. 

Anyways.

Maybe he'll want it tomorrow night.  Maybe not.  I don't know.  But tonight, I know I have bittersweet tears rolling down my face.  Big ugly shriveled up can't catch my breath crying face happening.  It's ok though.  I have a healthy boy in the next room over who's growing up.  And I love him more than I ever dreamed possible.