As of yesterday, Dexter Ian is 11 months old. I just want to be sure everyone is aware that 11 months is just one month away from ONE YEAR OLD. Please direct me to the office where I can file a complaint regarding the too-rapid passage of time.
I’m aware that kids like toys and that’s why they exist, but Dexter really loves toys, playing and exploring with impressive energy and creativity. He has four teeth now and plays Level 4 peek-a-boo, where he covers his face with his own hands. Sometimes he mostly misses, which is hilarious. (“Where’s Dexter? Oh. He’s right there.”) His favorite things are being upside down, cracking himself up by sticking his pacifier in mommy’s or daddy’s mouth and crawling up the stairs then taking off in a sprint-crawl, giggling wildly, giddy with freedom.
Our morning routine right now is that I get up and make a bottle while Matt grabs Dex out of his crib and entertains him until milk is ready. Every day, my not-a-snuggler baby practically flings himself out of Matt’s arms when he sees me because for some reason, he not only deigns to hug me for a whole 15 seconds every morning but he seems to really, really crave it. So do I, kid. Thank you for the best 15 seconds of my day.
After about 10 and a half months, my time breastfeeding Dexter is coming to an end. Our weaning story isn’t unusual – he’s been nursing less and less since he started solids, and since I returned to work full time. I’d suspected for a while that he wasn’t getting much out of it. His top two teeth popped last week and that sealed the deal – three hard bites later, I decided I didn’t want to end this beautiful thing we were doing together with pain and frustration so I called it. If I’m honest, he called it a while ago and I was just keeping it going as long as I could.
I’d love this to be a “10 months? WE ROCK!” post but the truth is, I’m blue. I choke up every time I tell someone. Add “weaning depression” to the shockingly voluminous list of things I never knew about until I had a baby (cerclage, breast pump phalanges, wubbanubs… oh, it is such a long list) but I am in it. As I’ve mentioned before, we fought really hard to establish breastfeeding and somehow, that makes it feel worse, like I’m giving up on the tail end, even though that isn’t the case. (I tried EVERYTHING to boost my supply after Dex started daycare. You do not want to know the things I have seen, done and consumed in the name of milk supply.) I never imagined being a mom would involve so much weeping about breastfeeding, making it happen, keeping it going and letting it go.