Wednesday, June 3, 2009

up, up and away


I was feeling sentimental as I mixed up Teddy’s first bottle of formula this week. ‘My baby,’ I thought sadly. ‘No more breastfeeding with my tiny, gentle little boy…’ and then the thoughts trailed off as I watched him bite into that plastic nipple, chewing and worrying it like a Labrador with a rubber chicken. Funny, my nostalgia just melted away.

At nine months, he is getting very strong and wriggly, and with four teeth up top, and two below, he’s developing a fine pincer grip. Breastfeeding is becoming less like an intimate, sweet symbiosis between mother and child, and more like the early scenes of a horror movie. I know I’m going to scream, but I just don’t know when.

He eats everything I put in front of him. The Italians would call him 'a good fork.' I know he's getting enough nutrition without needing breast milk so much now.


Not...needing...Mummy...?


Say it isn't so.

2 comments:

  1. It isn't so. Especially, I suspect, with boys.

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  2. funny - I had a dream last night about the first time Ethan decided to bite my nipple. Those razor teeth hurt more than the cracked bleeding nippes of the early weeks. And the randomness of it.... But it is so very sad letting go of the bond of BF. I shed big tears. I'm feeling for you

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.