I'm not sure what to write. I'm not even sure why I'm trying to write it, but I guess it's my blog so I can write it if I want to...!
It's silly really, but as of 6am this morning, unless I am told otherwise at my bone scan later on, I have given my son his last breast feed.
He's two years old, he isn't going to starve to death, but feeding him thus far has been extremely fulfilling, soothing and has deepened our bond. I wanted him to have the same chance to self-wean that his sister had, but it isn't going to happen. I'm fairly sure that he's going to be fairly cross, actually, for the next few days, but he will forgive me, and probably not even remember the fact that he was breast fed after a couple of weeks have passed. It doesn't stop me being sad about it though.
I can't help but mourn a bit too, for the choice of having more children taken away from me. Having a third was unlikely, but the lack of control, lack of choice, is painful. The bravado, telling people that I've finished with my ovaries, so they can go too, once I've finished chemo, is all a bit of a front, but I keep hoping that if I say these things often enough I will start to believe them.
I know I am repeating myself, with the talk of ending breast feeding and so on, but I can't stop feeling sad about it, therefore I have to talk about it else I will go mad.
Hopefully, the CT scan I had last week and the bone scan I am going to have today will come back clear, and I can start to cheer up and get on with Chemo. The waiting is the worst bit, and the fear of the unknown.
Of course tomorrow, I have the added excitement of having my hair cut v short and being dyed pink!
Onwards, upwards, and pinkwards!