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| My Gee Girl |
Wow, with that title, this could be about how it has been so long since I posted over here. Or it could be about my mad dash to finish my Christmas preparations but it is not. This post, inspired by my friend Ami's blog post about her daughter, has gotten me VERY present to how fast time is flying in my own daughter's life.
When I last left off here, we had celebrated Sweet's fourth birthday and now the conversation is more often about "almost five" then anything else. My jumpy skippy four year old has morphed into a jumpy skippy singy almost five year old and I can't even fathom where the time has gone.
In her post, Ami wrote, sometimes I'd like to take a page from Alan Lightman's wonderful Einstein's Dreams and freeze time to move more slowly at critical moments. I never knew, for instance, that the last time my daughter crawled to get someplace would be The Last Time She Crawled. One day, the crawling was no more; the dance had begun.
I have a similar tale. I remember very clearly when it was time to wean Sweets from breastfeeding. I had expected it to go difficultly. That girl LOVED to breast feed. She had even invented her own babyspeak word for my breasts, and breastfeeding which she called "gee." To this day she refers to my breasts as "the gee."
When I carried her on my hip her hand almost always went inside my shirt, "gee mining" as it would come to be called in our house. And when she had reached the age when I was uncomfortable offering her my breast at the park (ok, so an entire post could be written on that subject alone!) she would tug at my clothes asking to go home so "we can gee."
That is how she said it, so "we could gee" and I never realized just how prophetic that statement was. At the time, it often felt annoying. I wanted my breasts to myself again. I was happy to offer them when it was convenient but I didn't want a two year old dictating my every move. However, when we were actually in the moment of the breastfeeding WE were really doing it together. Most moms who breastfeed have experienced the same, the bond, the love, the pure joy of being so intimately, protectively entwined with another human being is amazing. I had planned to breastfeed for the medical benefits to my daughter, I really didn't imagine the emotional benefits to the both of us.
At the time, my Sweetie and I had thought we'd like to have another child and I was repeatedly told that if I was breastfeeding it was next to impossible to get pregnant again. If we were going to do this, (I was already old when I had Sweets!) if she was to have a sibling, the window was short! So we decided, to give us the best opportunity of conceiving, we would wean our girl. (For the record, now at age 48 I would say this window has closed.)
I had worked out in my head how I would slowly reduce the number of feedings, how I would offer her other drink choices when she was thirsty and avoid being at home at her more gee needy times. I picked a random date on the calendar to "start" the process. When she woke up in the morning we had our usual session together and headed out to the park, as was our routine.
I shared with some of my mommy friends that we were starting the process so I planned to be at the park a lot, and for long stretches of time. I was going to let my daughter have her gee but I would delay it as much as possible. That day I think we stayed at the park more then four hours and when it looked as if my girl might drop in the sand for her nap, we headed home. The strategy had worked, by the time we got home Sweets was only able to take a small sip of gee before falling fast asleep. When she woke, I had some of her favorite foods and a sippy cup of juice available so we made it all the way to bedtime before she requested more.
I was thrilled. This was going MUCH better then I expected. The next day, I thought I'd introduce another tactic. When she asked for the gee. I would tell her that it was all gone at the moment and she would have to wait a while. I figured we would stay out of the house as much as possible again and then I would offer the gee only after an extended wait. So when we returned from our morning outings I tried it. I told my girl that the gee was all gone.
I really meant that the gee was gone, for that moment. I fully intended to offer it later but my sleepy baby fell asleep before that time came. She fell asleep without the gee! That had never really happened before. Amazing. I was well on my way, to the self imposed "last gee" session, which was to fall on that Friday.
I shared the success with my husband and he suggested that since she was doing so well that perhaps I should just continue to tell her "the gee is gone" and just not make it available again. I balked at this idea. Surely this was too draconian. Today was an aberration, a devoted gee-er like my girl will surely want more, but I agreed to try it.
The next morning when my girl awoke, I did not offer my breast. We skipped right past that part of our morning snuggle and jumped into breakfast. At one point I think my girl asked for gee but I replied with the planned response, "The gee is gone." And from that point on that is all that was needed. I would gently remind her that the gee was all gone and she could be satisfied with a hug or a drink, depending the real need.
Now this is all well and good for the story of weaning but what you may have noticed is I had put my "last day of gee" in my mental calendar for that Friday and as of Wednesday my girl was already gee free! I had not counted on us completing this heroic task THREE DAYS EARLY! I had planned a poignant, possibly tear filled last gee moment and I was not going to get one. My girl's last gee was Tuesday evening and we would never share another. Heck it brings tears to my eyes even today.
Like Ami, I wish there is a way to know when something really is going to be the last time. Right now, as my girl sleeps alone in her own bed, something which, at one point, seemed as impossible as eliminating gee, I can only imagine the countless last moments I am missing.
What "lasts" have you missed?
When I last left off here, we had celebrated Sweet's fourth birthday and now the conversation is more often about "almost five" then anything else. My jumpy skippy four year old has morphed into a jumpy skippy singy almost five year old and I can't even fathom where the time has gone.
In her post, Ami wrote, sometimes I'd like to take a page from Alan Lightman's wonderful Einstein's Dreams and freeze time to move more slowly at critical moments. I never knew, for instance, that the last time my daughter crawled to get someplace would be The Last Time She Crawled. One day, the crawling was no more; the dance had begun.
I have a similar tale. I remember very clearly when it was time to wean Sweets from breastfeeding. I had expected it to go difficultly. That girl LOVED to breast feed. She had even invented her own babyspeak word for my breasts, and breastfeeding which she called "gee." To this day she refers to my breasts as "the gee."
When I carried her on my hip her hand almost always went inside my shirt, "gee mining" as it would come to be called in our house. And when she had reached the age when I was uncomfortable offering her my breast at the park (ok, so an entire post could be written on that subject alone!) she would tug at my clothes asking to go home so "we can gee."
That is how she said it, so "we could gee" and I never realized just how prophetic that statement was. At the time, it often felt annoying. I wanted my breasts to myself again. I was happy to offer them when it was convenient but I didn't want a two year old dictating my every move. However, when we were actually in the moment of the breastfeeding WE were really doing it together. Most moms who breastfeed have experienced the same, the bond, the love, the pure joy of being so intimately, protectively entwined with another human being is amazing. I had planned to breastfeed for the medical benefits to my daughter, I really didn't imagine the emotional benefits to the both of us.
At the time, my Sweetie and I had thought we'd like to have another child and I was repeatedly told that if I was breastfeeding it was next to impossible to get pregnant again. If we were going to do this, (I was already old when I had Sweets!) if she was to have a sibling, the window was short! So we decided, to give us the best opportunity of conceiving, we would wean our girl. (For the record, now at age 48 I would say this window has closed.)
I had worked out in my head how I would slowly reduce the number of feedings, how I would offer her other drink choices when she was thirsty and avoid being at home at her more gee needy times. I picked a random date on the calendar to "start" the process. When she woke up in the morning we had our usual session together and headed out to the park, as was our routine.
I shared with some of my mommy friends that we were starting the process so I planned to be at the park a lot, and for long stretches of time. I was going to let my daughter have her gee but I would delay it as much as possible. That day I think we stayed at the park more then four hours and when it looked as if my girl might drop in the sand for her nap, we headed home. The strategy had worked, by the time we got home Sweets was only able to take a small sip of gee before falling fast asleep. When she woke, I had some of her favorite foods and a sippy cup of juice available so we made it all the way to bedtime before she requested more.
I was thrilled. This was going MUCH better then I expected. The next day, I thought I'd introduce another tactic. When she asked for the gee. I would tell her that it was all gone at the moment and she would have to wait a while. I figured we would stay out of the house as much as possible again and then I would offer the gee only after an extended wait. So when we returned from our morning outings I tried it. I told my girl that the gee was all gone.
I really meant that the gee was gone, for that moment. I fully intended to offer it later but my sleepy baby fell asleep before that time came. She fell asleep without the gee! That had never really happened before. Amazing. I was well on my way, to the self imposed "last gee" session, which was to fall on that Friday.
I shared the success with my husband and he suggested that since she was doing so well that perhaps I should just continue to tell her "the gee is gone" and just not make it available again. I balked at this idea. Surely this was too draconian. Today was an aberration, a devoted gee-er like my girl will surely want more, but I agreed to try it.
The next morning when my girl awoke, I did not offer my breast. We skipped right past that part of our morning snuggle and jumped into breakfast. At one point I think my girl asked for gee but I replied with the planned response, "The gee is gone." And from that point on that is all that was needed. I would gently remind her that the gee was all gone and she could be satisfied with a hug or a drink, depending the real need.
Now this is all well and good for the story of weaning but what you may have noticed is I had put my "last day of gee" in my mental calendar for that Friday and as of Wednesday my girl was already gee free! I had not counted on us completing this heroic task THREE DAYS EARLY! I had planned a poignant, possibly tear filled last gee moment and I was not going to get one. My girl's last gee was Tuesday evening and we would never share another. Heck it brings tears to my eyes even today.
Like Ami, I wish there is a way to know when something really is going to be the last time. Right now, as my girl sleeps alone in her own bed, something which, at one point, seemed as impossible as eliminating gee, I can only imagine the countless last moments I am missing.
What "lasts" have you missed?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
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| My Jumpy, Skippy, Singy Girl |
I haven't updated my "Stuff the Girl says" scroll in a while so I thought I would leave you with a few of her gems from this week:
"Those reindeer don't have wings and they fly."
I respond, Like a lot of Christmas things they are pretty magical.
"Am I a Christmas thing? I am pretty magical."
"I can already fly a little bit!"
~~~
Found Sweets hiding behind the couch... she got visibly upset that I had noticed her.
"Mom, I am being Rat Girl. Rat Girl does not like to be seen."
"I guess I'll just have to be Trick Girl instead. Now watch..."
~~~
She is always singing and making up songs...
"Here's a song I call, I wish I was a princess..."
~~~
Dad, "What has four sides?"
Sweets "Your head."
~~~
"Why would they name their baby Jesus?"
Upon further discussion she thought "Logan" would have been better!
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For those of you who don't know, or haven't joined me there yet, I blog a lot more regularly over at Bliss Habits and I would be delighted to have you join us there. I also have a companion Facebook Page where you can get all the latest updates and socialize with other Bliss advocates!
Oh, and Ami, who inspired this, has a guest post today over on Bliss Habits, entitled: Grr-Attitude: Cultivating a Defiantly Grateful Life. Do stop by, I think you will like it!
I wish you and yours a very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Ah, the "Lasts" I have missed and now recognize only in hindsight. I had planned to breastfeed at least until C. was one. At 10 months of age, she weaned herself. One morning she was done -- and done.
ReplyDeleteSomehow, even despite my best intentions, I skip straight from "Mommy can't carry you; she's too tired" to "Mommy wishes desperately she could carry you just one more time, but you no longer want (or need) her to."
If there is one major Life Lesson that being a parent has taught me it is the joy of just being In the Moment when something -- anything -- is happening. I have learned SO much from my Little One.
Thanks for this post. And thanks, too, for the kind words and the opportunity to contribute to Bliss Habits. May you and your Little One continue to learn from each other for many wonderful years to come...
I came over here from your Bliss Habits ;-) This is such a relevant post for me as the TIME magazine cover this week and the furor over "extended breastfeeding". I'm currently in a discussion with a friend on FB about attachment parenting and I blogged about it here: http://togetherwalking.weebly.com/1/post/2012/05/coming-out-of-my-lactivist-closet-and-finding-my-purpose.html
ReplyDeleteMotherhood is such an amazing ride! (and time sure does fly, my daughter will be 6 in less than 2 months!)
Susan
Time sure is flying. I can feel us nearing the end of our breastfeeding journey. I don't know if it's a few more weeks or a few more months, but I know it's not long before my little girl weans herself. I'm enjoying what little time we have left of this wonderful ritual. I will always remember this special bond with my kids fondly :)
ReplyDeleteI came to this page via Bliss Habits, to have an additional entry on the chance to win a Katie M. Berggren print. And I'm so glad I did, because I loved reading this. It made me cry! I love the term "gee," first of all, that is so sweet. And I love the reminder that there are many lasts in parenthood. It's good to live in the moment, for sure, enjoying each phase. At the same time, it's also important not to get TOO caught up in the moment, because sometimes the moment is "augh, I'm tired!" when really, if I take a step back, I realize, it's okay to be tired AND nursing my baby, it's okay to be a little achey from rocking him, as long as I also realize how sweet it is that he's small enough to rock still, and that he still loves to nurse. So many people have so many opinions and I have gotten caught in the maelstrom of wondering well just how long is he going to nurse, and just how long is he going to sleep with us, and are we creating a monster because we're not making him sleep alone, etc, etc. But deep down, I know we're not. I know that kids need their mommies, and I'm happy to be there for him. I know I'll miss it all when it's over, even though we'll be doing new/different/interesting things together. This time is special and I cherish it SO deeply!
ReplyDeleteThis was awesome to read. <3
Kathy, that you for bringing me to this post! It's so timely. I am so privileged to have breastfed my son as long as I did, but I guess a part of me wishes my son were a baby all over again. The "lasts" of his babyhood are long gone now, and he will experience many "firsts" as he launches into preschool age. Oh--it hurts bad sometimes! I've been crying, actually. But thank you for sharing your story, just when I needed to hear it!
ReplyDelete