Weaning

Night two with no nursing. Not used to sleeping the night uninterrupted, I am awake at 5am.

Two days ago, Gavin endured a horrific dental procedure. His front chompers were deteriorating - due in part to the nighttime milk. I had a small tantrum at the dentist's office last month and demanded they special order white caps for him instead of putting the steel teeth of poverty on my child. Apparently milk teeth are too small for porcelain, and the technology for enamel-coated children's caps has only just been invented. They were confused about why I cared whether Gavin could smile confidently for the next 3 years, but they agreed to use him as their guinea pig for the new product. My mother took him in for his 3-hour appointment while I was in class. "He looked a bit like Golem there for a while," she told me later, "and it took so long the pain killer wore off. He cried when he thought they were done and weren't, but he hung in there and didn't melt down." My poor baby. The teeth look good, at least, and he was more than happy to score two new toy trains because we felt so bad.

So somehow I thought this terrible day would be a good time to wean him. He lasted until 2 am before sobbing quietly against the wall, and then turning to me tentatively and asking between tears in a quiet heart-breaking voice cracking with utter despair, "I can't nurse anymore?" He rolled over and hugged me and sobbed into my chest. I relented, but reasoned, "Only once a night, ok?" He agreed with complete relief, snuggling down against me while I kissed his head.

And the little guy has been true to his word. He nurses once at bedtime, happy and snuggly, then rolls over and sleeps the entire night. I'm both relieved and sad. It won't be long now before our nursing days are completely over. He asked to sleep in his own bed at nap time yesterday. It makes my chest hurt.