I’m lying here between two sleeping children. Smallest is out for the count, Tigerboy is a bit more restless. I’ve probably only got a couple of minutes before he decides he needs a top up. And that’s fine. If we’re up most of the night, we’re up most of the night, because one thing I’ve learnt with children is that each of these phases passes, usually when you least expect it.
I’d never intended to tandem feed. I wanted smallest to self wean before get brother was born. But it didn’t happen, and so for several nights she lay next to me sadly, waiting for her turn. And sometimes she fell asleep before he did, and sometimes she didn’t.
Then, she stopped asking. She stopped looking sad. She started talking about milk for the baby, and singing to us as she fell asleep. And I think, without either of us really noticing, she’s weaned.
I feel a little sad. I didn’t cherish those last few feeds because they were uncomfortable and stressful, feeding her while tigerboy built up to wanting his next feed. I hope she might remember the experience more fondly and that she doesn’t feel pushed out or replaced. She seems to like her baby brother and she’s getting lots of attention from her older siblings as well, so hopefully all will be well.
But I still wish I’d known our last feed was our last. And that I’d enjoyed it too.
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