Skipping Town

After one year and two weeks of breastfeeding, Greta is weaned. Last Friday, I just decided it was time. Greta is drinking cow’s milk, she’s eating a ton, and she was nursing out of habit, not any real need. So I just—stopped. I didn’t really intend to do it cold turkey, and if she’d protested, I would have kept going and phased it out gradually. But this wasn’t the case. At her morning naptime, I gave her her pacifier and blankie, snuggled her close, sang her a song, and put her in her crib. She went to sleep without a peep. Same thing for her afternoon nap, and then at bedtime. I did nurse her late that night, but the next day, that was it. She’s more or less stopped waking up during the night now (though she’s been getting up quite early, like 5:30 or 6), and she goes right to sleep at naptime and bedtime. It’s like she doesn’t even remember breastfeeding was something she used to do. Sniff. I was ready to stop, but Greta is my baby, and weaning her means I have to (sort...

Greta has been home with us for a week and two days now, and things are going surprisingly well. “Surprisingly” because we’ve been remarkably free from the fatigue and chaos that generally come with an infant. Greta has proven so far to be an outstanding eater, and a stellar sleeper, with little inclination to cry. Knock wood. Knock knock. I’m fully aware that this can and probably will change, but for now we feel surprisingly…human. She’s been sleeping in three- or four-hour stretches, with a five-hour stretch thrown in now and then just to keep herself in our good graces. She’s cute, too, so I guess we’ll keep her around. In the week or so that we’ve been home, we’ve had two celebrations. November 3 was our four-year anniversary, which we actually managed to celebrate. After we put Lucia to bed, I fed Greta, passed her to my parents, and Andrew and I hurried around the corner for sushi. We’ve been going to this sushi place since I first lived in the neighborhood in 2005-2006, and it’...