One More Milestone

We are officially bottle-free in our house . . . 6 nights with no nighttime bottle and 2 days with no naptime bottle (they may hate me at Mother's Day Out tomorrow when naptime rolls around!) Dex is doing amazingly well, crying pretty hard for a few minutes at bedtime and rarely even fussing during the night. A milestone that came on very quickly for me. Sigh. Maybe too quickly. We will never have bottles in our house again. That cabinet that was one of the first ones set up when we moved into this house - the one that has all of the little cups and bottles in it - it will seem kind of empty now. I longed for so many years to be at the point that we could enter the baby years, and those years are so quickly fleeting now. Sigh. Again.

Will I Be Able to Do It?

As I get ready to call it a night, I'm summoning up all of my gumption for later . . . I'm gonna need it. Last night, I was at the clinic late, and Nick ended up bringing Dex home and putting him to bed. Fortunately, although at the time it seemed quite unfortunate to Nick, I'm sure, the milk I'd bought earlier in the day was still at the clinic. So, Dex went to bed with a cup of juice instead, which instantly hit the floor in disgust. He cried and then went to sleep and did not have a bottle in the middle of the night. There was a little crying in the middle of the night, but he always went back to sleep before I caved in and warmed any milk. Can it be that my baby boy has had his last nighttime bottle. Like so many other "lasts," I didn't see it coming. Have I rocked him at night with his "bah-be" for the last time? I remember wanting to really soak up the last time Brandon nursed because I knew he was losing interest and eating mostly solid foods, so I was all prepared for the next night being "it." The little stinker wouldn't even latch on the next night. That last had come and gone. I'm super sentimental about these things, and I think God just rips the band-aid off, so to speak, and puts me out of my misery.
I just hope that I don't cave in tonight, in the wee hours of the morning, when I know a bottle will make the crying stop, and I can sink back into my warm covers . . . Gumption.