The beginning of the end

I'm not even sure if it's the beginning of the end.  More like the middle.

I've removed my pumping times from my work calendar.  I'm at the point now where I'm not even pumping enough milk to cover the bottom of the bottle.  Last time around I was more than happy to break up with the pump, but then it was my choice and Baby Girl's choice.  She had cut out pre-naptime nursing on her own and there wasn't a need for me to keep pumping during the day.  Baby Boy, however, has been different in that we sort of forced his hand on cutting out his pre-naptime nursing session.  He's fine if I'm not in the house and doesn't even ask for milk, so I've been leaving the house before naptime or we've been in situations (not necessarily on purpose) where his naptime has been shifted on the weekends--we've been in the car or in a strange place.  He hasn't nursed on a weekend in 5 weeks now and I only pumped during those times on one weekend.

Additionally, I've cut way back on my caloric intake.  It's going well...for me.  I've lost about 6 pounds in the last two weeks or so.  But it's not going so well for my milk supply.  Baby Boy doesn't seem to notice, which is good, but him nursing on an empty breast isn't the most comfortable feeling, either.

I'm taking time to cherish the time we have to nurse, though, since I'm pretty sure that he's going to be my last baby, my last child to nurse, the last breastfeeding relationship I'm going to have.  I watch him while he nurses (aided greatly by Daylight Savings Time), talk to him, kiss him on his head, and sometimes I let him nurse to sleep if he's close to it already.  We snuggle.  It's our time to spend together.  Do I think it's a good idea to rock him to sleep each night?  No, of course not.  But I need it and I think he does too.  He'll get too big soon enough and he'll become more independent, but neither of us is ready for that yet and it works for us.