The Best Gift of All

We had a good run of it, Ellie-Bug.

This week marks the end of an era: Elliana has nursed for the last time. Part of me feels pretty wistful about it--for the past 11 months, sitting down five or six times a day (and 2-3 times a night) and staring at her little face while she chugged away has been a way of life. Keeping up with two cubs, a pup, a marriage, a part-time job, and a house can get a little hectic, and being forced to rest and snuggle one's baby on a regular basis must be Nature's way of keeping mothers at least somewhat sane and healthy!

I've nursed her in our home and those of friends and family; in stores, in her car seat, and at restaurants, the aquarium, the zoo, and Disneyland. Aside from a brief biting phase (*shudder*), it's been blissful, and I've done some of my best thinking, planning, and reflecting while nursing her in the dark late into the night. By my calculations, we spent roughly 400-500 hours snuggled up together while she drank, and I spent almost every minute of that staring at her little face and soaking up her sweet baby smell. I had planned to wean her pretty slowly, but in three weeks' time, she was over and done with it all, and I didn't even know that the last time I nursed her would BE the last time until after the fact.

For all of these reasons, in a moment of epic lameness, I found myself getting a little misty-eyed when I walked past the breastfeeding accessories at Target the other day. Could I be more of a weenie?

And then she started sleeping straight through the night.

Cue Kool & the Gang, people, 'cause it's all about Celebration in this household now!

I've passed up a year's worth of concerts, happy hours, Girls' Nights Out, and post-7pm festivities because Ellie required my beverage-producing parts to be present at bedtime.

I've declined day spa invitations left and right, because the idea of taking a breast pump along (or pausing the relaxation to pack up, go home, and nurse) seemed to pretty much defeat the purpose of the destination.

I've spent my recess and lunch "breaks" at work scurrying back and forth from a dusty, cold, abandoned restroom to pump milk Bear and I then had to hurry up and scald before it went gnarly.

As Bear told Keira a couple of weeks ago, I haven't had a decent night's sleep "since there was a Republican in the White House" (hey, there's ONE good thing about the Bush administration!), and while I've handled it better than I did when Keira was a baby, the sleep deprivation has definitely taken its toll on my patience, my health, and my sanity.

In short, I've planned my entire life around the commitment to breastfeed...and it was absolutely, totally, 100% worth it. If there's ever a Cubby Three, I won't hesitate to do it again. But for now...

...let freedom ring!

I'm free to celebrate my birthday at the spa on Wednesday, and at a bar on Friday (where, I'm sure, it will take about two ounces of alcohol to get me completely sloshed). I'm free to stay up with Bear after the girls go to bed, rather than crashing ASAP in anticipation of being woken up every few hours. I've had the energy to exercise the past two days, which probably won't even put a dent in the calories I'll be consuming over the next week, but hey--progress nonetheless. I feel like a new woman.

Thanks, Ellie-Bug, for the best birthday gift I could ever have asked for: not only this newfound freedom, but every smile, giggle, and snuggle since you entered the world. You've made what I already felt was an inordinately happy life infinitely happier by joining our family; the only difference from here on out is that you'll be doing that with a sippy cup in your hands.

Congratulations to both of us!