falling short?

I have begun weaning Ian and I have to say it feels weird.  When he was first born, I put him to my breast and the rest is history.  The pain came and went and so began the nursing relationship.  He was an avid eater and devoured his pumped bottles when I returned to work.  Sure, pumping was a pain but that mostly came with the stress over whether I was producing enough and then there was the washing the same pump parts over and over again.

Then came the allergy woes and so begun the restriciton diet.  A diet I never though I’d survive.  A diet that I hope to not have to experience again for some time.  A diet that I returned to twice, but with the second time I was able to enjoy eggs and nuts.

A slight weight loss and a steady weight for a couple of months proved the fact that our nursing relationship had suffered when Ian had to try a special formula for allergies while I pumped around the clock to keep the milk flowing.  And so Neocate was tasted and hated, with its expensive, smelly odor.  It ruined my let-down and interrupted the bond I was genuinely enjoying with Ian.  After a month trial, I was granted permission to return to nursing but after so many dumped bottles of milk based off of potential allergy contamination and whatnot, I was not going to pump any more in addition to the five times I was while he was on Neocate.  So when I returned to nursing, I was not returning to the exclusivity of it.  I joined the supplemental world. 

The confusion set in.  Why drink this crap if Ian can have my milk? And then came the dismissal of any milk altogether.  A strike.  Then we started solids and it seemed like all we did was pry Ian’s little lips apart with the edges of baby utensils.  The joke was on us.  The blood in his stool kept up.  What to do? Try a new formula in line with the old one, but flavor it vanilla.  And something worked because Ian gained over a pound in two weeks.  And I felt that we were on to something great.  Except more blood and more frustration.  And then a trip to dinner this past weekend put a thought into my head.  For a mere (if that), bottle of my milk and failed nursing attempts since Ian is too busy, too distracted, not satisfied at the first suckle, to feed, then what, exactly, was I doing keeping up with the pumping? I’m having a relationship with my fucking pump here.  And Ian’s pediatrician is right: I’m missing out.

So here’s to the weaning of my son from the very thing I had hoped to continue until Ian’s first birthday.  I made it through maternity leave which was my first goal.  I passed the test, I can go on to the next thing.  And for now we’ll continue to tackle the potential allergy issue and hope and pray it is just that.