My son is not quite fifteen months old. He's a very passionate little person - he can scream just as loudly over being put down as he can over getting a shot. And on the one hand, he's very independent - he's always refused to be fed with a spoon or to be taught anything, but on the other hand he's extremely affectionate. Cuddling and hugging have always been very important to him. I think that's why he nursed for so long.
Yep, I said, "nursed". I have not nursed him since Friday. I think we're FINALLY done. I was worried that it wouldn't happen until we could have a conversation about it. Nursing Lovebug was so different from nursing Ironflower. Lovebug's never accepted a bottle, for one thing. And Lovebug nursed 12 times a day until he was five months old. I had no choice but to get used to nursing in public. Ironflower accepted bottles and lost interest in nursing at ten months. I think Lovebug would have nursed until first grade if I'd let him. The fact that one of his first words was "nurse" really freaked me out.
But now that I'm finally done I'm a little sad. I didn't savor our last session enough. He's not a baby anymore. As I was reflecting on all this last night, I finally understood why some people have so many babies (I love those 16 children shows on TLC). Not only is it hard to watch your baby grow up (especially your last one), but each child is SO different. It's rather fascinating to imagine (or find out) all the different way your genes can mix together. But then I imagine being outnumbered by the children and I panic. And the thought of three kids in diapers (since Ironflower has stalled out in the potty training race) makes my debit card shudder. So even though it's bittersweet to know that Lovebug is a total toddler now, I don't think I'll be making any announcements soon (unless we win the lottery and can get a nanny).