Nursing has been beautiful and cumbersome and stressful and rewarding and inconvenient and very convenient. Aiven is over 7 months now and loves his food, so he is not needing to nurse as often. I can see the weaning process beginning. It makes me a little sad, but I am also grateful that Aiven is doing it on his own rather than me forcing it upon him before he's ready.
I was very fortunate that nursing came easily to Aiven and me. He suckled right away, within minutes of being born. One of the things that no one mentioned in all of the potential issues with nursing was the possibility of having a baby who wanted to nurse all the time. Aiven was all about nursing, all of the time. He barely napped. I would be stuck in my big, fluffy nursing chair for hours upon hours. Aiven would nurse heavily for 2 hour stretches. He would fall asleep on me for maybe -- if I was lucky -- an hour, then wake up to nurse again. By the time Alex would come home from work, my legs were stiff, walking was difficult, and my bladder was near bursting.
It was extremely challenging but I was also very lucky to have enough milk, a supportive husband, and no mastitis or other nipple discomfort. Between feedings and the occasional nap, I would also pump milk. That pumped milk was my savior. It allowed a brief respite from nursing. Alex would use the pumped milk to put Aiven to sleep every night. If I had nursed Aiven to sleep, it would have been an ordeal. He would have fallen asleep on me and woken up if we tried to move him. The pumped milk allowed Alex to bond with Aiven and also give me a bit of a break.
I nursed so much that we developed our own language. It seemed like a huge oversight that a baby could cry a cry and poop poop but not be boobed boob. Therefore, Alex and I started to use boob as a verb. As in, "Time to boob Aiven to sleep!" or "Can you boob him while I shower?" I think it became official when we used it in a Scrabble game! "BOOBED" 36 points, triple word score, Boo Ya!