Parenting
My daughter, Lily, recently decided to wean herself from breastfeeding. As I playfully chided her, “Quitting isn’t cool,” she simply ignored me, opting instead to crawl away to her play mat and toss her favorite bird toy in my direction. This was the third consecutive evening that she had shown such disinterest.
At 32 years old, I never imagined I would experience a moment when my child turned away from breastfeeding. To say my pride took a slight hit would be an understatement. While not perfect, I thought my body had done a pretty good job of nourishing her. Wasn’t the decision to wean supposed to be mine? Regardless, her message was unmistakable: Lily was ready to move on, and I needed to accept that. After 17 months, I felt a surge of liberation!
The dependence was over! My body was my own again! I could finally enjoy a day out without worrying about nursing or managing breastfeeding attire. I could jubilantly shout to my partner, “She’s your responsibility today! Good luck!” The constraints of nursing were lifting, and I couldn’t help but revel in the newfound freedom.
But let’s be honest—when babies decide they’re done breastfeeding, they typically mean it, right? I just wanted to confirm there wouldn’t be any surprises down the line. I definitely wouldn’t miss nursing; I just wanted to verify for my own peace of mind.
I rarely mentioned that we were still breastfeeding, as I felt the method of feeding should be a personal choice. As long as children are fed, that’s what truly matters. When asked about our breastfeeding journey, I was candid: yes, we were still breastfeeding. The responses varied dramatically—some praised my commitment, while others looked at me as if I’d committed a social faux pas. But the moment had arrived: she had officially stopped!
And honestly, I couldn’t find a valid reason to be upset. I mean, that would be unreasonable, right?
Throughout our journey, I never had a definitive end date in mind. Initially, I had set a modest goal of breastfeeding for six months. In those early days, when breastfeeding felt like a painful endeavor, six months seemed almost unattainable. I began to realize those who breastfed longer were simply doing what worked for them.
It’s often said that “it’s always darkest before the dawn,” and I can attest that applies to my experience with breastfeeding. Once I overcame the initial discomfort, it became surprisingly easy. I found myself becoming somewhat complacent about the whole process.
Now, I’m completely fine with this transition. Seventeen months is impressive! I should celebrate this milestone because I’m genuinely happy. Yes, I have my body back!
Yet, I can’t help but wish she had given me a heads-up about her decision. It would have been nice to savor our last nursing session or at least shed a tear to mark the occasion.
Moreover, I had finally put away the pump—a device I had grown to despise. After locking myself away to pump milk for others to feed her, I realized it was simply more convenient to nurse her directly. The ease of breastfeeding made me feel guilty at times, but in reality, it was the best option for us.
This is a breeze to let go of! Lily doesn’t even seem to miss it. I feel fortunate! She’s not acting out or trying to nurse again—no signs of distress on her part. Who, me? I’m not crying! I’m genuinely excited about this new chapter.
Interestingly, I recently discovered I’m pregnant again. I’ve heard that a mother’s milk can change in taste during pregnancy, which may explain Lily’s decision to wean. Perhaps this was her way of expressing her feelings about the arrival of a new sibling.
I’m completely okay with this! I appreciate your concern, though. I know you didn’t ask, but I just wanted to clarify—I’m doing fine! Oh, and this mascara? It’s just a bad brand, not a sign of me being upset!
Our evenings have taken on a new routine: bath time, story time, and then sleep. Lily is transitioning into a big girl, making her own choices and becoming more independent. I couldn’t be happier about this!
To summarize, while the end of our breastfeeding journey is bittersweet, it signifies growth for both me and my child. Embracing this change is essential for our relationship as she continues to develop her independence.
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