Charlotte ended up being totally different. I was not looking forward to the few days in the hospital after I delivered her, when the legion of nurses would come in and inundate me on the benefits of nursing her. Breast is best, and the rest of that coercing fest that I just was not interested in hearing.
Then I had her. Okay, let's give this a try, squirmy, screaming one. You definitely look more sturdy than your brother did on HIS birth day. So we did. And she took to it like a champ. In fact, between the time she was born and the time the lactation consultant came in to convince me to breastfeed, we had totally gotten the hang of it.
Charlie is well into her 4th month of life now, and this past week I started weaning her. We had exclusively nursed since day one, and I was really worried about how she would do. I read so much online about baby rejecting formula, growing super clingy, etc.
Well, she did great. And guess what? I am a complete mess! I've cried, felt so distant from her, want to cuddle her all the time. I am a wreck. That's when I realized just how connected nursing makes us. She still tries to root toward me, get a little snack and such, but then she realizes the restaurant has shut down and she moves on. But I haven't yet. My heart still wants to cuddle her little self with every meal, and experience that amazing emotional intimacy with her I never even expected.
It's strange to think that she is, quite possibly, our last child. And all of her 'firsts" are all of our "lasts." Bittersweet. But it is also so beautiful to see her grow. Maybe I am a little granola after all.
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