First, can I say how much I hate that I can’t help but relate major life events to the car accident? I would like nothing more than to forget that it happened–to not be affected by the memories and alternate endings that play over and over in my head. Really, I hate it. But that doesn’t change the fact that life is full of cause and effect.
And so, I give you an update on Eli.
One of the more significant injuries that I sustained in the accident was a significant gash to my right breast (there is nothing like looking down and seeing a cut so deep that your fatty tissue is totally visible–visible to everyone since your shirt and bra have been all but cut off of you). I still have know idea what hit me there, but it obviously hit me hard. That whole side of my chest turned black, blue, purple, green…you get the idea.
Ask me how excited that made me to nurse.
Sure, nursing on the left side wasn’t bad. Really, the actual nursing on the right side was pretty tolerable, too. When he would (frequently) bring up a hand to pat me, though? Yeah, bad. At ten months old, our nursing frequency decreased significantly. After a couple of weeks, I started to feel bad about how little milk (and how much juice) Eli was consuming. Since he has never had formula and we were only a month and a half from his first birthday, I decided to buy a gallon of whole milk and see how things went.
He is my first child who actually lit up with his first taste of milk. He absolutely loved it. He will gladly drink it over and over. As a result, we’ve all but weened. Some nights, he will still nurse at bedtime, although I’m fairly certain that he isn’t really getting anything. Other nights, nothing. I’m tempted to just say that it’s time and cut him off completely–he’s only a few weeks off from his first birthday.
I just feel guilty. He didn’t choose this in the same way that my other kids did. It was forced on him. And the really crummy part? I had to do it at a time when he needed to be comforted by me more than ever. For that first week or so, when they were all the most freaked out by what happened, I wasn’t even to be there for my kids as much as I normally would. I was in bed. I know that I had other people taking care of them all but, still, it sucks.
With Eli’s new found love of milk, Sean has taken the initiative to try a little signing with him. Every time he pours a sippy cup of milk, he says “milk” and does the sign (why am I attributing this just to Sean? It was his idea at first, but we both do it). Eli has made the sign a few times, now. He has also made some close attempts at saying the word “milk.”
And then, there is today’s breakthrough. We have been working some on trying to teach him to walk. He has been standing up without pulling up for a week or two now. And I have seen him manage one or two tiny steps before falling down. This morning, he decided to walk from our recliner to one of the dining room chairs. He took at least ten steps in a row, and made it to his goal. He was obviously pleased with himself, especially after I started clapping and cheering. Since them, I have watched him make several more attempts at walking decent distances, with varying levels of success. I give it a week or so, and he’ll be walking all over the place.
As my mother told me this morning, I’ve lost my baby. It’s a good thing I’m having another. 😉
Another side effect of Eli getting older is that he has left his mid-morning nap behind. Of course, with the added energy expended with his new activities, he’s having a hard time making it to everyone else’s nap/quiet time. A couple of days ago, he fell asleep in his highchair while waiting for me to get Caleb ready for his nap after lunch. I took pictures and laughed at how cute his spontaneous need for sleep was.
Today, he fell asleep in his highchair, again. This time, his mouth was full of partially chewed chicken. That’s right, he was so tired that he fell asleep mid-bite. Poor kid. It’s tough growing up.