Stopping

I'm in the process of stopping nursing.  Someone today asked me why.  Why am I not waiting until Miles is a year old?  Why now?  Part of me wanted to get defensive - it's my decision, it's my baby and my body and none of your business.  But instead I was just honest. 
I'm done with it. 
I'm ready. 
It's time. 
Then the conversation turned to the weirdos (yep, I said it, but you don't have to agree with me) who nurse their children into elementary school. 
 
Now that I've made the decision and have started pumping less often, I have to give myself permission to feel all of feelings that go along with stopping. 

There is guilt.  I feel guilty for the money we could be saving and guilty for the nutrition I've chosen to stop giving my child.  Because I could do it longer - I've made it this far.  I could try to make it a year.  Every time I dip into the $25 can of Similac and see that it's nearly time to buy a new one, I have doubts. 
 
But there is also relief.  Being a parent, and especially (I think) being a Mama, is hard enough.  To take away a little of the stress by making it not ALL my responsibility to create and supply the food - that feels amazing.  It feels like my load is a little lighter.  I am excited not to have to leave my teaching partner alone with 60 kids so I can go pump.  I am excited to drink more than one cup of coffee or have a soda at lunch if I damn well please.  I am excited to have a martini. 

There is trepidation.  Will my baby thrive as well on formula? (If you've seen the size of my child, you know this is a silly question. But it's one I ask myself nonetheless.)  Will he miss the closeness of our time together?  I know I will. 

But mostly there is the peace because I know in my gut that it is time.  Yes, I will miss the quiet moments that used to belong to just him and me.  Yes, I will have to start watching what I eat again.  But it feels right to do it now.  So I am. 

And it's okay. 

I'll take my martini filthy dirty and up, by the way.