That's All Folks...

Monday night was my last time nursing Kendall. I am beyond sad, but I know it was for the best.

After writing this post, we had one of our worst nights ever. So I decided to pump and try just formula to see what would happen. I wanted to know if it was me or the formula giving her trouble. Apparently, it was me because she instantly took a turn for the better. Three -- count them -- ONE.TWO.THREE long naps during the day and only one night waking to feed. She was/is a different baby.

For a few days, I tried nursing her first thing in the morning for "bonding," but she wasn't all that interested anymore. So I tried to nurse during her night feeding, assuming she would be all sleepy and cuddly. Not so much. She was clearly done with me.

That may sound harsh, but that's how it feels. It hurts. But as Mama C-ta so beautifully wrote here, sometimes being a mom is about letting go. About doing what is best, even when it breaks your heart. After all, I truly only wanted Kendall to be comfortable, and that is what happened. So now I step back... even with the painful knowledge that this may be the last child I ever nurse.

None of it makes sense to me. My breast milk should be the easiest thing for her to digest, the gentlest on her tummy. It is supposed to be the healthiest option. Yet, for some reason, it isn't in our case. Honestly, that makes me mad.

But even more so, it makes me sad. The sad that hits you in the gut and makes you want to bury your head in your hands and sob. So that's what I did on Monday. I cried. Hard.

I cried for the 11 long days in the hospital when nursing was the only thing that kept me sane. When I missed Emma so very much. When I was scared that things just kept going wrong. When I was frustrated that they weren't letting me leave. When I was wincing in agonizing pain. In the midst of it all, I had the honor of feeding my newborn daughter. I could look down and watch her peacefully eat without a care in the world. She needed me and loved me, and that gave me a reason to be happy. It gave me strength.

I cried for all that I will miss. I will miss watching her come up from a feeding, arching her back with little fists clenched in a big stretch. I will miss the naps on my shoulder that we often took together. I will miss the late-night feedings when it was just the two of us laying side by side. And I will miss the sacrifices that I made so that she knew how very much I wanted to help her.

I cried because it isn't fair. I tried so hard to make this work, but in the end, it wasn't enough. Between the shots I'd have to take because of my pulmonary embolism and the possibility of gestational diabetes again, Kendall may very well be my last child. That is enough to tear any mom's heart out.

So I am sad, but you know what, that's okay:
"Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart." Ecclesiastes 7:3

God lead me to this passage on Monday during my devotional time. You know what the name of my devotion was? "Celebrating Sadness." I know, He is too good.

The devotion reminded me that God created every emotion we feel. And that sadness can be good. It makes us reflect. It makes us feel. Look at how many wonderful works of art were produced out of sadness. Sometimes it feels good to be sad, to cry. God will meet us wherever we are.

My heart is sad, yes. But it is full of God, and it is full of hope. After all, He is healing my baby's stomach.

He has answered my prayer.