On December 5, 1999, I got a positive pregnancy test. Since that day, I’ve been either pregnant, nursing, or for about eighteen months total, both at the same time.
Miss B hasn’t been overly interested in a few months; I know she nursed sporadically over the last year and even when we first moved, but last night she was up late after a late nap, and she told me she wanted to ‘try to get some na-na one more time’. So she did, and laughed, and then told me that she was weaned. Her milk teeth are all still in, and the probable ‘natural’ age of weaning falls between 2.5 and 7 years based on various anthropological extrapolations.
But more to the point, after fourteen years of being pregnant, nursing, or both, I am now officially neither. Or, in the words of Love Actually, enough now.
And that, I suppose, is how child-led weaning looks. Different for each kid. Messy. Flexible. And done.