Producing milk and growing a person is melting my hips and butt clean off my body. Moments after nursing my head swoons and my hearing gets weird. I can not seem to keep up with this double demand. I guess it is for the best. It is making weaning more necessary and it is making me follow through.

It stabs me right in the heart. His watery hazel eyes lock onto mine and he furiously works his wee wittle hand signing “milk milk!” I hand him a cup of formula which he disdainfully flings aside and moans “Anuhnuh! Anuhnuh!!” These breast which were so nourishing, leave him hungry and unsatiated, yet he only has eyes for them.

With my history of preterm labor and now preterm babies, my doctor asked me to wean by 12 weeks. I laughed. I knew that short of leaving the baby at home and hiding out Mexico for 2 months, weaning Levi that fast would be impossible. I’m in my 12th week now and only just this past week gotten him to accept any kind of formula. We have managed to drop one breastfeeding session a day and all other feeds are only after a cup of formula.

These last few weeks my milk was obviously not enough to sustain him as he was waking 5 to 6 times a night starving. Since getting him to take formula he is now waking 1 and on a bad night 2 times a night. And while this all seems like good news, I cry.

Levi is more invested in breastfeeding then any of my other children. Mira weaned herself by now, as did Tessa. They were only in it for survival and once solid food came on the scene it was see ya later lactater! But Levi, dear sweet Levi loves to collapse into my arms and curl around my breast. He pats me lightly and sighs with such contentment that my heart quivers.

Now, instead, it is a frantic time, like he knows that each session might just be the last one. I no longer recognize his scent, it is foreign and changed since adding Carnation Comfort Proteins to his body. Old lefty seems to have nearly stopped producing. Righty is still milkful but her let downs are weak and disappointing. We have come to a point where it is all for comfort. I haven’t quite convinced myself to pry that comfort from his rose bud lips so SHHHHHHHH, please don’t tell my doctor and please tell my uterus to hang in there.