I document a lot of firsts around here - with two kids under age three, that's bound to be the case. But today, I'm remembering a last. It's one that I don't really mind, yet my heart aches just a little bit that we have left it behind. After all, it was the first thing that he called mama.
We said goodbye to Lincoln's "me" - also known as his binky, or pacifier.
I originally thought we would have the habit broken a long time ago, but after the coffee burn incident, we relied pretty heavily on the "me" during his recovery.
Finally after several more weeks, we reached another point where I felt we were close to weaning him off of the pacifier. He really wasn't using it very much at all. We stopped naps, so he only got to have one at bedtime.
Lincoln has never been a good sleeper, but I started to notice that he was acting more restless than usual once he fell asleep. I watched him sleep one night and witnessed him rolling around, trying to keep the binky in his mouth while getting comfortable. I think it may have been affecting his breathing, too. So I decided - for the sake of trying (again) to improve his sleep, the "me" needed to go.
I expected a huge battle. I expected wailing, screaming, epic meltdowns, and the like.
That's not what happened. One night (September 19), I nursed him before bed as usual and said "You don't need your me tonight." He protested, wailed "meeeeee!" and whined for about two and a half minutes. Then he settled down and went to sleep. And he has not asked me for a "me" one time since then. His daddy gave him one a couple days later (during one of the aforementioned epic meltdowns), but that was the last time.
Overall, I'm glad. Addie doesn't use them, so we are a pacifier-free family right now. But every time I happen across one of those beloved "me"s, my heart tugs just a little. Because he is not a baby anymore, as much as I might like to pretend it is true.
And when I see that "me?" This is what I see.
|Tiny 4-week old Lincoln with his me for the first time.|
|The only way we survived car rides.|
|And road trips for Daddy's work.|
|Backstage at Scrooge the Musical.|
|Big boy car seat sadness.|
|It was always within reach.|
|Perfect car-playing companion,|
|At Paul Revere's House in Boston.|
|One of the very last "me" photos,|
sometime this summer.
Be still, my sad little heart. And heaven help me when he stops nursing.