Hello, bottle

Yesterday marked a pretty sad day as I put away the pump for the very last time. It's been coming; it comes as no surprise, but I just am not quite ready for Beck to be completely weaned from nursing at not even ten months old. I have tried not to judge myself for what admittedly feels like a bit of a failure. I have tried to remember that this is something over which I have no control. But, still, I am saddened that my baby has made the decision that he no longer needs me in the way he once did. I am sure there are more things I could have tried to keep it going, but to what end? An unhappy baby who is not getting all that he needs to be satisfied, happy, and healthy? As I finish off the last of what stored milk is in the freezer my heart is a bit heavy at the thought of what it all represents- a special bond between Beck and me that could never be experienced by anyone else. I know that so many people find the whole thing silly and they don't understand why I even gave a second thought to introducing formula, but I suppose it is not for them to understand. He is not their baby. And so each time I "make a bottle" I do so with just a twinge of guilt and a touch of sadness that my baby will not be a baby for much longer, that this is just the beginning of many things of which he will "let go" as grows. And I am grateful for the nine months I had to hold him close and provide for him what nobody else could.