We gave up the bottle. We called it quits. Got her up Saturday morning and nearly cried as she looked at me sweetly and asked in her tiny voice "bottle?" looking around my shoulder, certain that I hadn't forgotten such an important part of our daily routine.
"No bottle" I told her gently, laying her down to change her diaper.
A look of confusion... "bottle?" she tried again, twisting on the changing table, looking to the rocking chair where, just the day before, I had sat and cuddled her while giving in to her morning milk demands. Holding her in my arms, letting her adjust to the morning light. Rocking slowly. Our quiet time together. After she weaned herself from nursing at nearly 12 months, which I had anticipated after a long journey for both of us, I welcomed her love of drinking milk from the bottle as it continued our bonding and we enjoyed our snuggle time routine.
"Milk?" I asked her, changing her diaper and getting her dressed, "Let's go get you some milk."
I tried to be cheerful and optimistic. Telling myself that the longer I waited to take this next step, the harder it might be. Knowing 15 months is old enough to be drinking from a cup but wanting nothing more than to hold on to her "babyness" forever. I was torn inside.
I carried her downstairs and filled her big girl cup with milk. She looked at me with disbelief and softly whined. She took a tentative sip. She whined some more and pushed it away.
This might be a long journey... and it's surely going to break my heart.