Weaning. Not Weaning. Weaning. Not Weaning.
Yesterday, I decided to start day-weaning Dylan. Then I changed my mind. Then I changed it back. Then I changed it again. Maybe some more times, too. Then I started to get really upset at my lack of decision. Then I realized that most mamas have complicated feelings about weaning. So I gave myself some slack and nursed my baby.
I’ve been nursing Dylan for 17 months now. He nurses 6-8 times a day still, which means he’s still getting significant calories from breastmilk. He comfort nurses some during the night, and he nurses to fall asleep, and he still has at least two “meals” at the breast.
My reasons for thinking about doing some weaning are complicated and sad and sometimes desperate feeling. I go back and forth about whether I want to treat my mental illness/es with medication and if so, whether I want to do that while nursing.
What I settled on yesterday is that I really love breastfeeding. Sometimes when I am severely depressed it’s hard to know what I want and what’s important and what matters. Breastfeeding is all of those things, and I have no doubt about that.
Today I’m making a phone call to another potential doctor and I’ll go back and forth about whether or not to try another medication. But for now I’m still committed to breastfeeding.