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Category: Milestones

Excuse Me While I Weep Into My Freedom

This afternoon I put Quinn down for her nap after lunch. What’s the big deal, you ask? Well, friend, I didn’t nurse her first. Just lunch, books, nap.  Again, you inquire: so why all your wailing and gnashing of teeth? Because, silly. I’m weaning her from the great milk factory known as my bosoms.  It’s a moment to which I’ve been looking forward for at least six months.  It’s a time that I’ve imagined as somewhere, out on the horizon–a beautiful sunset that I can see, but not quite touch. And it’s here. It’s finally here. My daughter now longer needs me as her primary source of nutrition, and I am free. So, of course I want to cry. I’m a year-and-done kind of breastfeeder. I nurse instead of giving formula, because that’s what works for us, and I’m lucky enough to be able to do it. But once I get the okay to introduce milk to the wee one, man, I’m outta there.  No extended breastfeeding for me, no…

It Happens Overnight

Our Quinn’s never been much of a mover. She took forever to roll over, and I think she only did it twice, as if to say, “See? I can do it! Now stop worrying and leave me alone, why dontcha?” She didn’t move from lying down to sitting up at all, and if placed on her stomach, she’d wail out in despair with a facial expression that made it seem like we’d just told her she’ll be paying for college herself. Only recently did she master this sort of half-body scoot-crawl, which basically consisted of dragging herself around by her arms while her legs sort of stayed bent in place (this girl’s got the best biceps of anybody on the playground). Her pediatrician had mentioned that since Quinn is a bigger baby (twenty-four and a half pounds of puuuure adorableness, people!), she was more likely to take her time meeting her physical milestones. This was okay with me. If she were our first baby, I’d have been freaking out, convinced that she’d be in a crib till she was…