*gasp* The horror!

Sadly, it’s true. I’ve posted a few times about Emmett John’s biting issues. Or maybe I’ve simply Twittered about them. Either way, I’ve mentioned it some where in cyberspace before. Last week I finally reached my point of no return. I was laying down with Mr. Emmett John for our morning nap when Gavin came stomping upstairs having another meltdown. He was so loud and angry during this particular meltdown that he scared the crap out of Emmett John. In fact, he scared him awake and caused him to chomp down on my nipple before opening his mouth to scream bloody murder. In that moment, aside from having the strong desire to scream bloody murder at Gavin I realized that if I didn’t wean him soon I would be calling Dr. D in tears asking what I should do with my newly removed nipple.

Usually I wean cold turkey. This time I figured we would try the actual act of weaning. You know cut a feeding here. Cut a feeding there. Elliott Richard had an appointment with Dr. H to follow-up on his cough so I asked if he wanted me to start milk or formula. He said to start milk in the skipped feedings. Emmett John was handling everything really well. Granted, he was a little upsest with me. But he still basically had his bedtime and middle of the night feedings so he was okay overall. And then came this past Saturday.

Friday night we went to bed. Emmett John nursed. All was right with the world. Around 3:00 am he woke up hungry/thirsty so I nursed him back to sleep. He fell asleep and then rolled away from me. Now this is very important: he rolled away from me. He broke contact. Not me! So I snuggled in and started to fall back to sleep. Next thing I know, he’s latched on again but only long enough to BITE ME! And not a bite on any scale of any of the bites up to that point. Oh no! He took a chunk out of my nipple!

That’s right folks! My sweet, innocent baby boy…the darling child that I struggled for 8 months to carry “just one more day, just one more week”…the baby I walked the floor with through colic, reflux, sleep apnea and hospital stays…my Tiny…my Doodle Bug…bit me. I screamed. I was crushed. I was horrified. I was in pain!

Seriously, I’ve done labor 3 times. I’ve broken bones. I’ve been through the physical wringer. But holy cow! God never intended for our nipples to experience that…ever.

In that moment, I decided that we were done. Nursing, Emmett John and I were officially broken up. We would no longer be slow weaning. No sirree Bob. The time had come for good old fashioned cold turkey weaning. My nipples could take no more.

That was this past Saturday. Today is…what?!…Thursday? So it’s been nearly a week now? Emmett John is adjusting. He goes through his moments. He’s become a major Daddy’s Boy, which makes 3 Daddy’s Boys. So the math goes something like this:

1 Daddy + 3 Daddy’s Boys = 1 sad Mommy with very lonely arms

When he sees me, sometimes he wants to sit and snuggle but since we went cold turkey I’ve still got some milk so I still smell like lunch, which is difficult for him. So I hold him, which hurts. He smells me, which upsets him. So he cries, which upsets me. Rob takes him and soothes him, which upsets me more. Rob is frustrated because while he’s trying to understand he just can’t and it really it’s a rational thing to be understood anyway, ya know? It’s just a vicious cycle.

So now Emmett John is weaned. My attachment parenting with him seems to have come a rather quick end as well. And I feel like I’ve been left in the middle of nowhere without a map or a compass to find my way home. I know nursing wasn’t supposed to be about me and it wasn’t. But it sucks to not be needed except for the shopping, cleaning and laundry, ya know?