Ghosts in the nursery

Weaning is hard.  Looking honestly at my role in the process isn't fun, but it's useful.  As I have said countless times, talking to other mamas really helps.  On my way home from work today, I chatted with Gillie.  Oh, was she ever helpful.  Her daughter is about to turn 2 and we are going to visit them in just a few weeks--can't wait for a little vacation! So we talked, or rather, I talked, and she reflected with me, about how difficult this phase is.  

But she also reminded me that it is a phase.  This too shall pass.  It sounds cliche, but change is the only thing we can count on, whether in motherhood or simply life in general.  Things happen all the time, good and bad, and all I can do is roll with the changes as best as I can.  

Tonight I felt sad while I was hanging out with Avi.  He asked to nurse several times when I arrived home from work, and I said no each time.  We had a lot of fun horsing around together (literally; I was "horsey" for awhile and he laughed like a madman and it was hilarious) after he ate dinner.  I cleaned the patio yesterday so we spent some time checking out our tiny herb garden and being silly while we looked for Simon.  

But I definitely felt sad.  Nursing is such an instant connection.  After a long day of separation, it allows Avi and me to bypass all the niceties of reacquainting.  We go straight to intimacy and ignore what we missed.  Sigh.  Who can blame him for asking? I have readily complied for too long, partly because by nursing, I could zone out during the transition time from work to home, instead of contemplate who I am when I'm not meeting peoples' needs as a social worker or a mama.  Funny thing: I checked out some website about weaning this afternoon.  It didn't feel helpful at the time, but what I remember was something it said about taking it slow.  When I read it, I felt sheepish, like, how much slower can this process get? because they talked about women beginning to wean between 4 and 7 months.  Now I realize that while we've embarked on weaning, I have to remember to go slow.  It's who I am, and probably part of who Avi is, too, because we remain so connected, nursing or not.

All told, we had a pretty good night together.  The times continue to change.  I am feeling okay about it for the moment.  Leeor is home now, which helps.  I am making cookies for what will be a very emotional memorial event at the hospital tomorrow night.  I taught yoga at work today for the first time and it completely energized me.  

The title of this post refers to an article about Selma Fraiberg's work with infants and mothers.  She was a psychoanalyst and developed a treatment modality called infant-parent mental health.  I learned about her in my last job while I was a home-visitor.  It was hard work but I got so much out of it and hopefully supported some people out there for a little while.  We used to joke at staff meetings that all mothers could benefit from an infant-parent therapist, not just the folks "at risk" that were our clients.  Having a baby makes us so vulnerable; it mirrors our own infancy in a particular way.  But the thing is, Avi's infancy is not mine.  It's his.  And it's my job to ensure we have a "good" separation.  

A funny aside to all this: our friend's mom, an MD,  told us that babies who nurse for awhile develop some intense cheek muscles.  I am paraphrasing, to be sure, but Avi does have quite the cheeks.  Oh, they are kissable!