“Can I have my mama milk now?” my son, Leo, asks in his cheerful, high-pitched voice. He’s bouncing on my bed, clad in his festive striped pajamas, a hand-me-down from his older brother. It’s bedtime, and he’s ready for our nightly ritual.
“Let’s go to our cozy spot,” I respond. He hops over to the far side of the bed, which is a spacious queen with an attached twin. Cuddling up beneath the pillow, he chirps, “Mama milk, mama milk.”
I lie down next to him, adjusting my collar for comfort. He latches on, curls up next to me, and begins to suckle deeply, completely at ease. He’s 3 years old, and honestly, I couldn’t care less about anyone else’s opinions on this.
Yes, my 3-year-old still nurses to sleep, and occasionally during the night too. My older children were weaned much earlier, but for Leo, there hasn’t been a rush to make that transition. There’s no new sibling on the way, so I see no reason to end this sweet connection. So yes, I continue to nurture my little one, and I’m unapologetic about it.
If you ask Leo, he’ll proudly declare that “me baby.” He avoids activities labeled for “big boys,” insisting he’s still tiny. This doesn’t mean he’s incapable—he’s completely potty trained, much earlier than my other sons, who mastered it closer to 3.5 years. He loves holding my hand wherever we go, which is endearing but sometimes tricky when I’m managing bags and a purse. If he’s not holding my hand, he’s clinging to his older brother’s.
We still use a wrap for our hikes. After a while, he gets tired and wants a lift, so I wrap him up for a rest. We even wear him to church; while he behaves well, boredom can lead to restlessness, and no one wants to deal with a fidgety 3-year-old. After my husband injured his back, we agreed that having a wrap on hand is essential. Leo goes up at Target, when he feels sad, or whenever I have my hands full. At around 28 to 30 pounds, he’s still manageable.
I breastfeed, co-sleep, and hold his hand as often as he desires. Many might see this as excessive or unnecessary, but it works for us. It fulfills Leo’s needs and mine. He thrives on being the cherished baby, and I believe that as long as it doesn’t harm him—which it doesn’t—he deserves this comfort. It provides him with a sense of security and makes him feel unique among his more boisterous siblings.
There are additional reasons I choose to nurture him this way. Leo is our last biological child, and due to health issues and medication, I cannot have more children. He represents my final opportunity to experience breastfeeding and co-sleeping. I cherish every moment of this closeness, knowing it won’t last forever. Soon enough, he’ll be able to complete a full hike without needing a break, and he’ll likely transition to his own bed before too long.
I’ve seen how quickly they grow. My eldest, now 7, reads chapter books and engages in conversations about movies I dislike. His younger brother, at 5, is learning to read too.
So, I’ll hold onto my baby for as long as I can. That doesn’t mean I’ll prolong nursing or wearing him unnecessarily, but I will savor every second of this precious stage. Most importantly, Leo is happy, loved, and secure. I’m giving him a gift that will last a lifetime.
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Summary: Embracing the nurturing bond with my 3-year-old son, I unapologetically continue our breastfeeding, co-sleeping, and hand-holding rituals. This approach works for both of us, offering him security and me precious moments with my last biological child. As he grows, I cherish every bit of his babyhood while recognizing that this stage won’t last forever.