Not what I had planned.

My baby is 7 months old now. It's also been a full month since I stopped nursing her. Normally, I would have nursed Tali until a year or when she wanted to stop. Jessie was too busy crawling and getting into trouble to nurse by 11 months. She self weaned. But with Tali it was completely different.

On October 21, my back seized up. I couldn't walk. I asked my mom to take me to the emergency room, but when the time came to leave, I couldn't even stand without excruciating pain. They called the ambulance to come and get me. That morning was the last day I nursed Tali. I knew there was no way I could hold my baby. Let alone, sit a position where she could nurse without causing more pain to my body.

Suddenly, I had lost an intimate experience with my daughter. There is a closeness you develop with your child when you nurse them. At times, nursing can be a drag. Your kid is with you all the time! But the trade off is a closeness and connection that can't really be described. When I had to suddenly stop nursing, I felt like I was losing a connection to my baby.

The next week, after my trip to the ER, I could barely move from the couch. I couldn't sit. Lying down was the only way to stop the pain, along with several types of drugs. I couldn't nurse Tali. I couldn't even hold her. While the pain consumed most of my attention, the nagging thoughts of losing my bond with Tali filled my heart.

My mom and husband had to take care of her while I watched. It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster. In my head, I knew that Tali was fine. I mean, look at the girl! She's almost 20 pounds of pure cuteness! Nursing is the best thing for babies, but my little one is doing fine. I was thankful that I could nurse her for at least the first 6 months.

My heart was worried that she would forget me; our bond would break. I wanted her to want her momma. It was hard to see other people take care of her. I couldn't lay her down at night, change her diapers, feed her, pick her up, or carry her for the first couple weeks.

By God's grace, there hasn't been a lost connection, just silly worrying on my part. My daughter still wants me. She still likes to snuggle. I'm able to do more with her, except for lifting and bending over to pick her up. We are adjusting to a new way of life.

And that's ok. It's ok that I couldn't nurse as long as I wanted. It's ok that I couldn't take care of my daughters like a 'normal' mom would. It's ok.

I say this because I built up ideas in my head of what I wanted, or how things should be. By now, I should expect that God doesn't operate in the way I want. And life never goes like the plans we make. In the end, the path God leads us down is better. It's probably going to be harder, a bit more scary, but filled with joy beyond imagination.

Once again, I have to rest with my daily bread. Today I am good. Tomorrow may bring loads of trouble, but I'm not going worry about it. Instead, I'm going to snuggle with my two little stinkers, and thank God that I will be able to lift, and bend, and chase them around soon.