This morning I think we reached the end of an era. For the first time Wolf genuinely didn't feel like any breast milk this morning. He latched on, got bored, pushed away from me and started beating Josh around the head. I knew it was coming, as for the last couple of weeks I haven't had to express milk when I went to work and we're down to only two feeds a day. But even those couple of feeds, which just a month ago he seemed to want desperately, are starting to get shorter. I just hope he keeps it up till Thursday so that I can at least say that I managed to do it for an entire year. Manage is perhaps not the right word. Where so many women I've read about or talked to have found the experience of breast feeding quite difficult, overall I've had a really easy time of it. At first there was all the trouble getting Wolf in the right position and the pain and bleeding, but all the months after that have been a breeze. I'd even stopped freaking out about whipping the boobs out in public if a feed was necessary. Breast milk has had the ability to instantly calm Wolf down or cheer him up when he has been completely miserable, often for reasons that neither parent can fathom.
I can't imagine having to do formula, and am actually impressed with people who do, because it seems like a lot of extra work; sterilising, mixing, heating over and over again. In that sense women who can breast feed are lucky, because they can use the instant food they make automatically and don't necessarily need to take extra vitamins or add anything to baby's food, because the immunities are provided in the milk.
On the one hand I'm quite relieved, as this means my bra size will stop fluctuating. I went from a 12B to a 14E! I got properly measured for the first time since I was 12 and am apparently a 12D and hope to stay there until subsequent children arrive and my breasts reach my naval. I can buy normal bras that don't snap open at the front (which means they won't accidentally snap open when I'm working). I've ended the embarrassing trek up the stairs at work, hiding myself in the store-room with my handheld breast pump, yelling at everyone that I hear approaching not to come in lest they see something they really don't want to.
On the other, it's a little sad. The end of a private bond only Wolf and I shared. I'll really have to cut down on the calories as boob milk won't be stealing the fat from my diet. Early morning wake ups will actually mean getting up and making Wolf's breakfast immediately rather than the lazy lie in with the three of us in bed while Wolf enjoyed a leisurely entree to his day.
Alas, he is a big boy now. I stood him up on his feet and he actually stayed up for a few seconds unassisted and took a couple of staggering steps towards he before he collapsed in my arms. He capably feeds himself most things (given not with any sort of cutlery) and seems keen to move on from sippy cup to normal cup. His favourite meal is no longer milk, but a lamb chop or roast potatoes. Look at him with his little push-cart. Not a baby anymore but a little boy.