Take a look.
I remember Ella at this age, when we put her hair in piggie tails. Her hair was much more curly than Cally's. They were like little corkscrew curls. As you can see, Cally's hair just sort of sticks out.
Cally's hair is also much lighter.
She seems like such a big girl all of a sudden. I have to accept that she kind of is. She's 15 months old. Fully weaned for a week now. The start of this process was quite wrenching. The end, well, not. Though I feel sad and nostalgic, I also feel like it has happened just as it should. About three weeks ago, we dropped her morning feed. I was surprised how smoothly she transitioned from nursing in bed with us in the morning (sometimes for 40 minutes straight, it seemed); to just laying calmly and sleeping with us. She's a wrestly sleeper, there's no doubt, but she never cried about not nursing.
I had anticipated the night time feed would be most difficult of all to drop. She always snuggled in for a cuddle and a suck to go to bed each night. We both looked forward to it. But, last week, when we sat in the chair in her room for our usual night time routine, she was restless. On both sides, she latched on for only a few minutes. She couldn't get comfortable. My instincts just told me to try rocking her to sleep instead. So I did. And she slept.
When I came downstairs, I had mixed emotions. I knew she was done. She'd let me know. I was happy with how it all unfolded. There was no anguish. But, it was a bittersweet moment. I also knew that it was my last time. Ever. I tried to relay this sentiment to Joey, but when I sat down next to him on the couch and said, I think I'm done. He gave me a confused look and asked casually, With what? Which made me realize that I needn't dwell on this moment for too long feeling sad. It's also a moment to celebrate. The beginning of a new phase for her. And me.
And really, we're no worse for the wear. Things are as they should be.