This weekend I had to abruptly wean Edwin. So that I can pop Ativan whenever I want. OK, that's not really why. (Well, sort of...) The short story is that this weekend I had a massive panic attack that put me in the hospital with what they thought might be a pulmonary embolism. Obviously, it was not. It was just a huge giant freakout.
I don't want to get into all the details here, but suffice it to say that I have struggled and continue to struggle with anxiety. Big, bad, debilitating anxiety. I've had my ups and downs with it. Several years went by with nary a panic (thanks, Effexor!). I was tooooooootally sane during my pregnancy, without any drugs. But since Edwin was born, it's been creeping back in. Hiding in closets, lurking under the bed. Well, in the past couple weeks it has come completely out of hiding and eaten me up whole. I can't ignore it any longer. I HAVE to beat this and I CANNOT let this get the better of me. I have my beautiful, adorable, innocent son to take care of and God help me, I will kick this disorder's ass.
Is this post about my crazy or about the weaning? Hmm... lets' make it about the weaning. That's a little more lighthearted! But still heartbreaking. I realize that in my last post I talked about weaning. But truth be told I had no intention of doing it anytime soon. Nursing was our thing, man. My little man loved him some boobies and that was just fine by me. Nevermind that he was beginning to make inappropriate advances in public and that in the mornings when I'd let him into our bed to snuggle and nurse he would often kick my underwear off with his feet (I know; what the fuck?)
Point being, I was not ready for this, and neither was he. He's pissed, he's frustrated. He won't snuggle with me. He pounds his fists and sobs pathetically when I say cheerfully, "Mama can't feed you anymore, but you can have milk in your cup!" And it makes me cry when he cries, because I feel terrible and I want nothing more than to give him what he wants.
I know in the grand scheme of things, it is a small thing that he won't remember. And it's a very important step on our journey as mother and child. And like the BHE says, it would have been really awkward for me to go into his dorm room at night to nurse him to sleep. We'll both get over it soon, I'm sure.
But it still sucks.