When Your Little One Decides She’s Finished with Breastfeeding

When Your Little One Decides She's Finished with Breastfeedinglow cost IUI

So, my daughter has officially decided she’s done with breastfeeding. “Quitting is for losers,” I told her, but she clearly didn’t care. Instead, she scampered off to her play mat and flung her little bird toy at me for the third night in a row.

In my 32 years, I’ve never had anyone run away from my chest before. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting my pride just a tad. Sure, they’re not perfect, but hey, they’re not that bad either! And wasn’t this whole weaning thing supposed to be my choice? But the message was loud and clear: she was ready to move on, so I had to be, too. Seventeen months is quite a stretch!

Once that hit me, my first thought was: FREEDOM! The dependency was over! My body was mine again, all mine! I could dash out of the house on a Saturday without a second thought, gleefully yelling to my husband, “She’s all yours for the day! You deal with it!” Mooohoooohahahaha! Bye-bye, nursing tops and turned-down brunch invitations!

But just to clarify—when babies decide they’re done, they really mean it, right? Like, no chance she’ll change her mind? I’m just checking, so I don’t get any unwelcome surprises. Because I wouldn’t miss it at all—seriously, I wouldn’t! Just asking for a friend.

I don’t often bring up the fact that we were still breastfeeding (or rather, we were), mainly because I believe it doesn’t matter how we feed our babies, as long as they’re fed. I was simply doing what worked for us. But when asked (and believe me, people love to ask), I answered honestly: yes, we were still breastfeeding.

And that response usually elicited one of two reactions: “Wow, that’s impressive! Good for you!” or the look that screamed “What’s wrong with you, you weirdo?” followed by “You poor thing! When are you going to stop?” Well, the time has finally come: she’s done!

And honestly, I can’t find a single reason to be upset about it. That would be bonkers, right? I never had a clear idea of when we’d stop breastfeeding, which was a source of frustration for those who inquired. I did have a tiny plan, though: I aimed for six months. Back then, with my nipples feeling like they were on fire, six months sounded like I’d lost my mind! Who in their right mind does this for that long? Turns out, they were just doing what worked for their families.

At first, I questioned everything, but eventually, I understood the saying “it’s always darkest before the dawn” was meant to describe my nipples. Once I survived the worst pain ever, it became easy—almost too easy, to the point where I felt a bit lazy about breastfeeding.

But you know what? I’m thrilled it’s over! Seventeen months is quite the achievement. I should throw myself a celebration because I’m genuinely happy. I have my body back!

But couldn’t she have given me a heads-up? I wish she’d let me be more present during what turned out to be our final feeding. Maybe a little warning so I could shed a tear or two?

Anyway, let’s not even get started on pumping. About a year ago, I finally stashed the pump away because, frankly, pumping is awful. The “WEE-wer, WEE-wer” sound was anything but sexy. I realized I was pumping just so my husband or family could occasionally feed her. It was nice, but a bit ridiculous to lock myself away for an hour a day if it wasn’t necessary. It was simply easier to nurse her. No bottles to clean, nothing to sanitize; I felt like I was cheating! When people asked how I was still breastfeeding, I thought, really, how could I not?

Giving it up has been a breeze! She doesn’t even seem to miss it. Lucky me! I should embrace this luck! No tantrums or attempts to nurse again—no tears at all. Well, not from her, anyway. Who else is crying? Not me! Because I’m thrilled about this transition. Can I borrow a tissue? And did I mention how glad I am about this?

She was never one to cling to nursing, so I should have seen this coming. From the start, she treated nursing like a business transaction: quick in, quick out, then off to play. No cuddling or reaching out for comfort. Her independence made it easier for me to detach, too—how could it not? I was just holding up my end of our little deal.

And now our deal has come to an end. She’s made it clear she’s not renewing her contract with my milk service. Fair enough! It’s right there in the fine print!

Interestingly, I just found out I’m pregnant. I’ve heard this can change the taste of breast milk, which might explain her decision to quit. Maybe giving up nursing was her way of protesting the impending arrival of a sibling. But honestly, what matters is that it was her choice.

And I am FINE with it! Seriously, I appreciate your concern. I know you didn’t ask, but I figured I’d share. I’m doing great! What’s that? Oh, just my new mascara. It runs a lot, and I must say it’s probably due to the pregnancy—read it somewhere, so it must be true!

Over the past few nights, we’ve established a new bedtime routine: bath, book, bed. She’s a big girl now! Her decision to stop nursing is a sign that she’s growing, making choices, and becoming an independent little woman. And I’m totally okay with it!

Did I mention that already?

Oh, I’m so grateful I could lie here and BAWL! But I promise, these are happy tears. I know this is what’s best for both of us. Still, one thing is for sure: breaking up is hard to do.

For more insights on pregnancy and parenting, check out March of Dimes, an excellent resource, or visit Make a Mom for more information on home insemination kits.

Summary

The journey of breastfeeding can be filled with unexpected twists and turns, particularly when your little one decides to end it on her own terms. The author shares her humorous and heartfelt experience of transitioning out of breastfeeding after 17 months. With mixed feelings of freedom and nostalgia, she reflects on the challenges and joys of motherhood, the importance of independence, and the bittersweet nature of letting go.

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