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Corey's Story: Good-bye Mimies
Women's wean for many reasons, not always by
choice. The story below describes how one
woman managed this transition for her and her
daughter.
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The lump had been recognizable for some time, a
pebble near my left areola. A year ago my
HMO OB shrugged and mumbled something to the
effect of, "Don't worry your pretty little head
off, Sweetheart," as though I were his
secretary. I did worry my head off, until
we moved to a new town and got new insurance
with which I found my new doctor, a woman.
Her hands palpated my left breast as I, paranoid
that I was paranoid, apologized for
wasting her time on something that was surely
nothing. She pulled her hands back and
looked me in the eyes.
"I'd like you to see a surgeon. Tomorrow."
Tests were inconclusive and it was determined
that I should have the lump, now the size of a
walnut, removed. My surgeon, the most
highly regarded in my area, insisted that I wean
my daughter before I have the surgery - and she
did not feel the surgery should wait.
I agonized over her words, but knew sudden
weaning would be less traumatic for my 2
year-old daughter than losing her mother, so I
scheduled the surgery and purchased a bottle of
Bite No More at Walgreen's.
I prepared Zoe as best I could. I sat her
on my lap and explained that tomorrow "mama's
mimies are going to start tasting icky" and that
from then on, she would drink her milk from a
cup. I tried to explain to her about the
lump and about how she was a big girl now,
anyhow. She stared at me blankly and asked
for Play Doh.
After last night's bath, I painted my nipples
with the Bite No More, a stinky and offensive
tasting concoction meant to discourage nail
chewing. I waited for my freshly bathed
daughter to climb into my arms for her nightly
suckling. My husband entered my bedroom
with her as we both fought back tears.
"Mamas mimies are icky now, Zoe," I choked, and
waited to see what she would do. Cradled
in my lap, head in the crook of my right arm,
and nose against my right breast, I knew she
sensed something was up. She sniffed my
right side and then my left - calm, with a look
of curiosity and wonder. She cuddled back to her
original position and opened her mouth slowly as
she inched toward the place that had once tasted
so sweet. She stuck out her tongue as
though she was able to sniff the foulness like a
snake, recoiling suddenly after making contact
for only a moment. she gagged and wiped
her tongue with her finger, asking for water.
Drink finished, she remained in my arms and once
again studied her old, soft friends. With
an understanding that took my breath away, she
raised her right hand and curled her tiny
fingers up and down, whispering, "Bye, bye
Mimies. Night-night."
This morning Zoe awoke for her usual 5:00 a.m.
nursing and climbed into my bed inquiring, "Mimies
wake up?" I recognized she was testing me
as she sported a smirk and approached
cautiously. I lifted my shirt and
suggested, "You can try, sweetie, but they are
still icky." With a look as if to say, "I
knew it!" she pulled my shirt back down
and shouted, "Night-NIGHT, Mimies!" - a huge
grin of satisfaction on her rosy face. I
grinned, too. but all the while my heart
ached.
This afternoon Zoe did not ask for Mimies.
I could swear that as she went about her daily
toddler business, she appeared so much older,
wiser than just the day before.
Tonight after her bath, Zoe pranced up to me
with her curly, wet head cocked to the side,
slight smile on her lips, asking, "Mimies?"
I shook my head and smiled back. With an
exhale, she reached out and filled me up with a
big, warm hug. It was not the same.
But she was satisfied. She hopped off to
her Daddy where now I can hear them beating on
drums and laughing their deep belly laughs.
I had been so afraid to wean Zoe because I
worried that she was not yet ready. I
feared she would feel hurt, confused, and
disconnected. But now I see that Zoe knew
the time for moving forward was here. It
was I who was afraid to say goodbye.
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