Last night J had his game, so it was just my little one and me. On nights like this I give her a treat: we take a "Mommy Chuppie." (Chuppie is J's family's word for bath, and a Mommy Chuppie is a bath in my big bathtub.) We always have a lovely time splashing around and washing each other's hair. All in all it's a really sweet time, and I'll miss it when she gets too old.
Last night, after we got out, put on her lotion and were getting her diaper on, she threw me for a loop. She asked for Mommy Milk. She hasn't nursed since July, when, out of sheer desperation for sleep I weaned her cold turkey. If I could go back I would have done so many things different during that week from hell, but the biggest change would be the weaning. It was so hard for both of us, and it was so abrupt. Her request to nurse last night didn't just surprise me; it brought up old feelings of guilt, loss and phantom let-down. She asked about nursing again this morning, and my boobs still hurt. We've explained that she nursed when she was a baby, but she's a big girl now, and nursing is over. Oddly enough, Soule Mama posted a picture today of her nursing her daughter, who is about the same age as mine. Which made my chest absolutely throb. It's a beautiful photo. Perhaps getting knocked up is a higher priority to me than I realized.
So my little one is getting extra cuddles, and I am refusing to "open my shirt" during these times, but she can still pretend to have Mommy Milk. And I'll just cuddle and accept life for what it is right now and enjoy our time. I'll miss these cuddles when they're gone, too.