HOME and moving forward

I returned from my jet-setting adventures through NY about 16 hours early, late Saturday night.

Viking had a cold.  A head cold sure, but I could tell, this put him out of his depth.  Based on looking at some red-nosed, glassy eyed pics sent to me of Samantha, she had one too. So while I was having a surprisingly good time walking down memory lane with classmates on Saturday, I skipped out on  the evening drinking portion of the reunion and hopped on a train back home that night.

When Sammi woke up on Sunday morning I assumed she would be happy to see me.  Yeah, she was, but....

This is also the week I chose to wean her. So she repeatedly cried "NA NA" while closing her hand in a fist (her sign for milk) and yeah, kid, that was rough.

I have to say, I have some very mixed emotions about weaning her.  See, I used to always joke that as soon as a kid could use words to request a specific food, that would be it, they're cut off.

The truth is that I loved the quiet time we spent every morning and night. She wasn't getting a whole lot out of me, yes, I was really functioning as a human pacifier. But I honestly never had an issue with it.

So why did I wean (besides being away for days and effectively killing my milk supply)?

I need a mammogram.  I can't get one.  No matter how hard I try through my doctors, I can't find anyone to give me one unless I'm no longer lactating for at least 3 months. And I have super dense breast-tissue, so I am already bracing for the hell of getting red flags on my mammograms.

I also currently know three women my age who have recently been in treatment for cancer. All of them I know through our kids.  There's a voice in my head that won't quiet.  Call it an intrusive thought, call it my general anxiety about always expecting the bottom to drop. But I have to get a mammogram and this is honestly the only way I will get approved for one.

My baby isn't taking to losing our nursing bond very well. There were some loud screams and big tears last night, and this morning.  It's a shock to her system in a way that it wasn't for her sister (Nibble was weaned around 14 months, and the best word for her reaction was ambivolent).

We'll get through it quickly I'm sure.  I now spend about 5 straight minutes just holding her and snuggling in those moments we used to nurse.  But yeah, the sense of loss is mutual kid.  It really is bittersweet.