Weaning

For some reason, I never thought about it. I mean, I had to wean from the pump, but that was fairly uneventful and didn't involve Annabelle.

And there in lies the problem. I forgot about the bottle. The other day I decided it was time. She's eating three meals a day and will drink from her sippy cup. I read somewhere that you can just try to go cold turkey. And as Annabelle has transitioned easily in the past, I thought this would go easily too.

But the problem isn't her. I mean, she'd clearly prefer the bottle, and eats much more when I give it to her. But the problem is me. I'm the one laying in bed at 11:30 at night considering if it is really necessary just yet, or if I introduced the cup early enough, or if I should just go right to the cup, or if I should just wait until she's one. And the bottom line is, I'm bummed.

I haven't grieved that she's growing up. Every stage of her development has been more fun than the last. And right now, she is the star of my world (and really, anyone else she encounters). But she'll barely sit in your lap long enough to get one sock on her. Except at bottle time. I will miss that time so much. And at 11:30 at night, I feel it warrants a short, but therapeutic cry.

Sunday night, as we were literally walking Annabelle upstairs for bedtime, the sirens went off. We knew there was a storm coming, but didn't expect that. Being the worrier that I am, I turned us right back around and asked Joel (maybe forcefully) to put up her pack and play. She usually has no problems sleeping there, but that night she wasn't having it.

This posed us with a slight problem. For those of you that don't know Annabelle personally, she's not much for relaxing in your arms and drifting off to sleep. No, it goes more like the battle to keep a slippery, wet fish in your hands.

And that's how it started. I laid down on the couch with her with the tv muted so that I could keep an eye on the storm. She would watch the tv and then glance over at her dad and then watch tv and then writhe her body around to see the lightning through the windows and then watch the tv. Slowly I started to notice she was giving up.

So I began to hum "you are my sunshine", which is the song I always sing to her at bedtime. She would lay here head down on my chest and begin to make noises, as if mimicking the noise she could hear from my chest. It made me giggle. Which made her fake laugh in hope that I would giggle again, which I did, and the cycle continued for long enough that I could recognize, and memorize, what was happening. My heart warms now just remembering.

And she eventually fell asleep. And I held her until I knew I had to put her in her bed.

And even though I will miss our times with the bottle, I am praying for times when there will be no bottle, but only a need for safety, or warmth, or just plain cuddle time. And though those times may only come once in awhile, they will be ours alone.