Yesterday was the first day and night that Paloma didn't have Mummy’s milkies, 

and I felt equally sad and equally free.

P and I have had a long journey together with this. I still remember like it was yesterday the night she was born, not even five minutes old and the midwife put her on my left boob and she latched on straightaway. Like that was that and nothing more. When I was taken to the maternity ward room the three other mothers that were with me all had problems with breastfeeding so the nurses had their work cut out, one of them checked in on me and saw P drinking away, she smiled turned on her heels and said “you seem fine enough, I will leave you two to it”.

Should have known that moment that was it. At about 3 months we tried to give her a bottle of my milk, did not want to know, refused it. And we tried every month but refused it. We should have persevered, we should have given her the bottle earlier, coulda shoulda wouda. And we took the easy way out for getting P to sleep. Both hubby and I aren’t very good at the controlled crying thing. We get stressed and we don’t like seeing P getting stressed either. we always did the French "Le Pause" 

I would feed to sleep, but of course with most “bad habits” you do to get a peaceful and easy life with tots and children you always end up having to mend it all anyways. We wanted P to fall asleep on her own, we wanted her to know that she always does not get her way.

A long story of why its taken me this long to get round to properly weaning her off the boob. I didn't realize how much of a connection I have with her and nursing until its coming to an end.  About a month ago I was nursing morning and bedtime feeds and when she would wake during the nights and want a feed. With a few weddings coming up where we would have to leave her with Grandparents, now was the kick up the backside to do this.

I started with cutting out the night feeds. It was getting ridiculous, all she wanted was me, didn’t not want Daddy at all, just me to comfort her. And she would be tired and I would be tired and Daddy would be tired. So hubby would go in her room and gradually go to cuddle her until she fell asleep again or we would put her in our bed and let her wrestle around like an alligator until she fell asleep. It was a struggle, P would claw at me looking for it but I wouldn't give in. Then came cutting out the morning feed and giving her a beaker for her milk instead. We ended up giving P the milk through a training bottle with a handle as it seems that she likes the comfort of the soft spout and the length of the bottle and it makes her see that is the bottle for “big girls” milk.  We only started this last week and she is getting the jist of it, both hubby and I take it in turns to give her the bottle in the living room away from where she knows that mummy used to give her milkies, we put telly on for a bit of distraction and she drank from the bottle. She puts the lid back on  herself, starts playing with her toys and comes back to the bottle and feeds herself again.

Last night was the first time with the bedtime feeds. I stayed downstairs and hubby took her up to our room and read her stories. We had mentally battened down the hatches and were gearing ourselves up for a few hours of hysterics from her cot. P actually took the bottle from him and guzzled a whole lot down. She went delirious, running between both of our rooms like a nutter. Then she started to cry and didn’t want to be comforted by Daddy but never asking for me, so hubby put her in the cot and 10 minutes of proper breath hopping crying, she wanted out of the cot and in Daddy’s arms. A further 15 mins of crying and cuddling and looking out of the window at the twinkly 

lights she fell asleep in  Daddy’s arms.

And down came Hubby looking shell shocked but it was done. With toddlers one day from the next is so different, so who knows how she will be like tonight at bedtime, especially as Big P is out tonight.

Will I cave in……