Parenting
My daughter has officially decided she’s finished with breastfeeding. I jokingly told her, “Nobody likes a quitter,” but she seemed unfazed. Instead, she darted away to her play mat and tossed her little bird toy in my direction, for the third consecutive night.
After 32 years, this was the first time anyone had run away from my bosom. I won’t deny that my pride took a slight hit. They may not be perfect, but they certainly aren’t that bad! Wasn’t weaning supposed to be my decision? Clearly, I was mistaken; her message was unmistakable: she was ready to move on. If she was prepared to make that leap, then so was I. Seventeen months is a significant stretch, after all.
Upon realizing this, my immediate thought was: FREEDOM!!! The dependency was over! My body was mine again! I could leave the house for an entire Saturday without a worry in the world, gleefully shouting back to my partner, “She’s your responsibility today! You handle it!” Mooohooohahahahaha! No more nursing tops or avoiding day-drinking!
But just to clarify – when babies decide they’re done breastfeeding, they really mean it, right? There’s no chance she’ll want to nurse again? I’m just checking to avoid any surprises because, honestly, I won’t miss it at all. I’m just asking for a friend, of course.
I don’t usually bring up the fact that we were still breastfeeding – correction, that we were still breastfeeding – because I believe it doesn’t matter how we choose to nourish our babies, as long as they’re fed. I was simply doing – or rather, I was doing – what worked for us. However, when asked (and many people do inquire), I always responded truthfully: yes, we were still nursing.
Responses varied strongly: “Wow, that’s incredible! Kudos to you!” or the judgmental look of, “Oh my goodness, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!” followed by, “You poor thing, when are you going to stop?” Well, the time has finally arrived: she’s officially stopped!
I can’t find any reason to be upset about this. That would be completely irrational, right?
I never had a clear answer to when we’d stop breastfeeding, much to the dismay of those who asked, because I didn’t really have a plan. Initially, my goal was to reach six months. Back then, during the early days when my nipples felt like they were on fire, six months seemed utterly unattainable. Who would possibly do this for that long? I figured they were either crazy or had achieved sainthood, or maybe both. Eventually, I realized they were simply following what worked best for them.
I used to question it, but now I fully appreciate the saying “it’s always darkest before the dawn,” as it perfectly relates to my nipples. Once I got past the initial pain, breastfeeding became so easy and convenient that I started to feel a bit lazy about it.
But honestly, I am relieved it’s over. Seventeen months! I should throw a party! Yes, I’m genuinely happy. I have my body back!
Yet, I wish she had given me a heads-up so I could have savored what I now know was our last feeding. A little warning would have been nice, maybe even a single tear to show my protest.
Oh, but I’m so thrilled! And don’t even get me started on the drudgery of pumping. About a year ago, I finally put the pump away because, quite frankly, pumping is a hassle. The noise of that machine was far from alluring. I realized that since I was my daughter’s primary caregiver, I was exclusively pumping for the rare occasions when my husband or family could feed her. It felt ridiculous to lock myself away and hook up to a machine when I could simply nurse her. Once I stored the pump, it felt like I was cheating. When people would ask, “How are you still breastfeeding?” I thought, “How could I not?”
This is a breeze to give up! She doesn’t even seem to miss it. I’m so fortunate! I should embrace this luck! She’s not acting out or attempting to nurse again. Not a tear in sight. Well, for her at least. What? Who else is crying? Not me! Because I couldn’t be happier with this transition. Can I borrow that tissue? And did I mention how pleased I am with this?
She never was an emotional drinker, making it apparent from the beginning that nursing was a transactional affair: she would get her milk and then dash off to play. There was no lingering, no reaching for comfort when she needed it. Her detachment made it easier for me to detach too; I was merely fulfilling my end of the deal.
And now, our arrangement has reached its conclusion. She made it clear that she will not be renewing her contract with my milk delivery service. She has every right to do so; it’s in the fine print!
Interestingly, I just discovered I’m pregnant. I’ve heard that this can change the taste of a mother’s milk, which could explain why she’s lost interest. Perhaps giving up nursing was her first act of protest. But ultimately, it’s her choice, and I’m perfectly okay with it!
Really, I appreciate your concern. I know you didn’t ask, but I thought I’d share. I’m completely fine! Oh, that’s just my new mascara, it’s a bit runny for no reason at all. It must be the pregnancy – I read that somewhere, so it must be true.
In recent nights, we’ve settled into a new routine: bath, book, bed. She’s a big girl now! Her weaning signals her growth, independence, and ability to make choices. And I’m absolutely okay with it! Did I mention that already?
I’m so grateful I could just curl up in a ball and cry! But these are tears of joy. I know this is best for both of us. Yet one thing remains certain: breaking up is tough.
In summary, the transition from breastfeeding can bring a mix of emotions, but ultimately, it’s a sign of growth and independence for both the child and the mother. As parents navigate these changes, it’s important to embrace the new routines and cherish the memories.