I should be greatful I nursed him as long as I did. We had to introduce formula around 6 months ( a devastating moment for me because I couldn't keep up with work) and I was certain that was it. I was pissed because I felt like a failure, like a bad mom for not going the whole year. He was happy, I was happy, healthy and everything. And then it all went down hill. I could no longer take the time I needed at work for pump breaks, the fridge in my office sucked and my milk started spoiling, and Ben stopped drinking the bottles because they tasted funny. If he nursed strait from me he was fine, but the pumped stuff just wasn't staying anymore. We had to start formula.
Truth is, I knew deep in my heart I'd never make it to a year. I wanted too, I now understand why some moms manage to nurse until 15-16 months, but I never would. Shortly after returning to work, I found out that I would be deploying shortly before my son's 1st birthday. I knew that we'd have to wean him well before then. The fact that I was able to keep nursing him, eve if it was only part time is a blessing. Something some Moms don't even get to do. Many of my friends and family members never make it past six months. I just didn't think it would affect me as much as it did.
As a working mom I needed the nursing sessions as much, if not more than my son. I was lucky enough to be able to nurse on my lunch break in the early months. Those short visits during the day to see my son at daycare were crutial to my sanity going back to work. It was in that small room that I sat the day I found out I was deploying. I sat there holding my son and just cried. Little Man of course just wanted to cuddle and fell asleep in my arms. It was everything I could do not to fall into a giant weepy blob on the floor.
I've deployed before, but this time is different. Any mother who has to leave her child for any period of time knows why. I can't even think about it without tearing up. I'm already an emotional person, this just makes it worse. It literally pisses me off to no end that there is nothing I can do about it. I tried to pretend that it wouldn't happen, that something would come up and then magically I wouldn't have to go. But here I am, a few weeks out, and I'm still trying to come to terms with it.
My son is ready, though he doesn't know it yet. He no longer needs me for nourishment, or to rock him to sleep (though I'm sure he'd still rather have me there). He's not giving his dad a hard time about naps or bottles anymore (for the most part). He's growing up, and he'll keep growing and there will be a period time where I won't be there to see it in person and that kills me.
I know in the long run it's only a short amount of time. I know that he's so little now he won't remember the time when I was gone for a few months. I also know that it'll go by fast (at lead to hope so). But that doesn't change how I feel. It doesn't change how mad I am, how jealous I am of stay at home mommies, and mommies who don't have to deploy, and mommies who get to raise their babies the way they want to without the military throwing kinks in the plan.
I didn't know I would feel this way before I had my son. I didn't know just how profoundly my world would change and how my priorities would shift. I didn't know I'd be separated from him for months. I didn't know I'd miss his first birthday. I didn't know that this experience would make me want to quit my job after everything I've done to get where I am. I didn't know that my dream would change from being the mom who thought she could do it at work and home, to the mom who just wanted to watch her kid grow and be a part of it for more than four or five hours a day. I didn't know that two days ago I'd be nursing my little guy for the last time...and I didn't know that two days that thought would make cry on my lunch break.
