Tonight my son woke up, crying out for me in a way that is rare for him, even when he is sick. The past few days he’s been battling a cold, made worse by a rash on his face that we determined at the pediatrician today to be bacterial. Even this time, you almost wouldn’t know he was sick, with his ever-happy disposition and unwavering appetite. Almost.
Except after his nap today, he cried and moaned and just sounded so miserable, and all he wanted was snuggles from his mom to help him feel better. Which he did, I’m happy to say, as he continued to destroy our living room by unearthing every toy he’s ever owned.
What is unique about that post-nap time today is that he didn’t once ask to nurse. At a time where we still nurse twice a day and I’m yearning to be done altogether, this felt huge. He was able to find comfort in me without nursing. I even remarked to my husband over dinner, how nice it was to find other ways to sooth him. It was abruptly different for us and yet still felt right.
So now I sit with Lenny, in the middle of the night this same day; his head on my shoulder, back to sleep. He mumbled the word “nurse” as I picked him up out of his crib, but was immediately content to put his head on my shoulder to be rocked and shushed. And here he is in my arms, soothed to the point of sleep without nursing, and I couldn’t be more content either.