The Beginning of the End or the End of the Beginning

And, it's over.

Breastfeeding that is.

I'm okay with it.

I'm not going to cry (anymore) about it.

I'm going to pretend like Audrey isn't crying (anymore) about it.\

I'm going to remember that

I rocked it.

Multiple times a day.

Early in the morning

Late at night.

For 15 months.

I rocked my baby in my arms.

Multiple times a day.

Early in the morning.
Late at night.

For 15 months.

We rocked it together.

For her health.

For my health.

For mother-daughter bonding.

We stared at each other for hours and hours.

She thinks my name is "mi" as in "milk".

She thinks squeezing her hand together in a pulsating fist means me.

And maybe it did.

For 15 months.

But.

I need a break.

I need time to play with her and talk with her and read to her.

I need time to sleep in the mornings.

I need her to say "mama" when she sees me, not "mi" or "mo".

And she will.

I hope.

It's only been five days.

She loves Dada and Bebe (Toby) more than me.

For now.

She doesn't want to cuddle with me.

For now.

I'm sad.

For now.

But I love her more than ever.

Mi