So I've decided, if I ever get to choose the way I die, death by a million tiny paper cuts will NOT be it. Why you ask? While nursing, baby has taken to lovingly scratching the tar out of whatever tender flesh she can sink her claws into. My breasts are obviously favorites and easy targets, but she also likes the back of my arms and on occasion my face. It doesn't matter what I do. I've cut her nails, given her things to hold (which she then hits me with), covered her in a blanket with hands outside the blanket (so she can't reach my skin), held her hands. Nothing makes her stop. I'm already at that point where I feel like "OK kid, you've been calling the shots with my body for 18 months. I'm ready to take it back for myself." This doesn't help me want to continue nursing. And she will take a bottle from me now, so I have no real reason to keep nursing. (Other than the obvious benefits: no bottles to wash, no formula to buy, no worrying about if I have enough water or formula or a bottle when I leave the house, no formula to run out of, or if we get caught out of the house for longer than I am expecting I can just feed her again without a problem). And a million tiny scratches don't give me any incentive. She also likes to pinch. I can't decide which is worse.
Alex weaned around now because he just lost interest so supply quickly declined. I though Elizabeth was starting to do that too, but she seems to have rebounded, and is sleeping through the night without a bottle of formula. So onward we go. One more month and she will be my longest nurser.