Even my husband will admit that I was an even-tempered pregnant lady. I don't have any funny stories about crying about Panera not having the soup I wanted or similar silly situations. There was the night when we took the babies home from the hospital. They cried unless they were being held, so I stayed up all night holding them, with crazy tears running down my face the whole time. I couldn't have even told you why I was crying - I was thrilled to finally have two perfect, healthy babies, but I was powerless to stop. Wow. What a night that was. But before and since that episode, which must have been thanks to postpartum hormone changes, I've been pretty in control of my emotions.
Until we dropped down to one feeding.
The other night Ray was watching the last Star Wars prequel (the one where Luke and Leia are born) for, oh, about the 4 billionth time. When the Emperor gives the orders to assassinate the Jedis, I turned to Ray and said, "This movie is so sad." He gave me a confused "Okay..." By the end of the movie, I was full on crying. At Star Wars.
It's not just Star Wars. Everything seems extra sad now. Commercials... Today Show segments... weaning itself.
After their second birthday we'll drop the last feeding. And that will be it. Sigh.