The Love Machine

I am pleased to report Maggie no longer nurses during the day, from getting dressed to getting in pajamas.  She is also down to one or two nursing sessions at night (whenever she needs them).

I have gone from nursing this child, no exaggeration, sometimes upwards of a dozen little sips an hour, to twice a day.  Signficant weaning development.  Clearly our previous foray into night weaning was premature.  (Duh).

While I was really (really) ready for this in a lot of ways, today I realized just how NOT ready I was.  One word:


A.K.A. The Love Drug.  A.K.A. That thing that was released every time Meeps or Bob gnawed at a nipple any time over the last, oh, four years.

I feel harder.  Less patient.  Less comfortable.  Less in love.

This is not enough to make me go back to nursing (hell, no).  But I was not expecting this.

This is feeling, it is familiar.  It’s how I used to feel in the years B.C.  (Before Children).  Scott has graciously volunteered to work on his latch, and not to fuss for night feedings.  He says he has my best interests in mind and “would do that for you, honey.”  Isn’t he just a sweetheart.  It’s not a solution.  I don’t know quite what is, perhaps some EPO, cohosh, yam combo to start with.  Something.  Anything to help get the balance back.  Because you can’t bottle LOVE.


Oh, Oxytocin.  I really miss you.