I know why the dairy cow moo's

***disclaimer: breastfeeding post!***

I know why the dairy cow moo's

and stamps with impatient sway.

She says, 'Get my baby on me now -

before I balloon away.'

I had wonderful visions of weaning: it would be a gradual, mutual process between Julian and me - slow enough that I wouldn't be uncomfortably full, dropping one feeding at at time over a period of weeks, and long enough that if Julian did have any negative reactions to new foods (will tell a sad cottage cheese story later), I'd still have supply to nurse him back to health.

As with so many things recently, those visions are out the window. Instead I am stuffing cabbage leaves in my clothes, walking around the house with a chest that looks like an egg-foam mattress topper. Instead my eyes are popping open at 5:00 a.m. having dropped two feedings the day before and it is an emergency so PLEASE SAM PLEASE GET THE BABY PLEASE PUT HIM ON ME PLEASE GET THE BABY.

I know why the dairy cow moos: it's a groan too deep for words.