I think I might have done my last breastfeed. For a couple of reasons, The Littl'un had formula before bed tonight. It was much less cozy and calming than a breastfeed (there was more shrieking and glasses-grabbing), but I did enjoy the fact that the thing she was gnawing on and shaking about as if she was an over-excitable puppy was not my nipple. I may go back to breastfeeding tomorrow if it makes her sleeping worse, but as I'm not sure how that could possibly happen (FOUR HOURS she was awake for on Tuesday night), then it could very well be that me and breastfeeding are over and done.
How do I feel about that? Pretty ambivalent, to be honest. Which is a bit of a surprise. I had thought, especially given how pro-breastfeeding I have somehow become since I had The Toddler, and how much more I've enjoyed it this time around, that I might be sad about stopping. A month or so ago, when it was doing my nut in, I thought I would be ecstatic. I am neither of those things. I suppose a little part of me might be a bit sad - I'm not having any more babies, so I won't ever breastfeed ever again. And there is still a tiny bit of me (the bit that spends far too long on ScaryParenting.com, where these kind of things seem to be disproportionately important) that feels, somehow, like I shouldn't be stopping, because I don't really have a reason to. But maybe the ambivalence itself is a reason. The magic has gone. That makes me sadder than the actual stopping. I used to LOVE breastfeeding, now I don't really feel anything about it. I suppose there's no actual reason why that matters, after all, it's only giving your baby food, why should you love it? But it's nice to enjoy something. Especially if that something has meant that you've had to wear ugly bras, watch your wine intake, and spend hours of every day stuck to the sofa.
I rambling now, and have no idea where this is going. So, in summary, woman has no interesting feelings about something which is nobody else's business anyway. This is groundbreaking stuff right here.
Oh, but on a totally unrelated and annoyingly gushy note, The Toddler has grasped the fact that she used to be a baby, and keeps pointing to photos of herself and saying "Is that me? When am I tiny?". It's very cute, and even the grammar pedant in me hope she says it like that forever.