Remember that striking Time magazine cover featuring a mother breastfeeding what looked to be a 5-year-old boy with the bold question, “Are You Mom Enough?” I initially found myself taken aback, thinking, “Who would nurse for that long?”
For me, breastfeeding was a challenge with my first child. Despite my best efforts, it just didn’t pan out. I felt a twinge of guilt and promised myself that with my second child, I would make it work at all costs. Little did I know, nearly three years later, I would be in a mad rush to wean him.
The first few weeks of nursing were blissful. After overcoming the initial soreness, I discovered a magical connection that matched my idealized visions of motherhood. I nursed with pride, embraced public feeding, and did everything from sipping Mother’s Milk tea to doing yoga—all in the hopes of ensuring my milk supply was robust.
As my child thrived and gained weight, my pediatrician suggested I consider introducing a bottle. “No way!” I replied. I feared “nipple confusion” and the possibility of failing at breastfeeding again. After some reasoning from my doctor, I eventually bought bottles and new parts for the breast pump, which had been dormant for four years.
The following months were a battle. I tried everything to get my child to accept a bottle. I attempted to make pacifier use a fun game, experimented with cute blankets, and even offered my finger as a makeshift solution—nothing worked. My little one was determined to stick with nursing.
He happily devoured oatmeal, bananas, and hummus, and drank milk and water, but would not budge on the breast. When he turned 18 months, I thought, “This is the perfect age to wean.” However, my attempts at weaning only seemed to strengthen his resolve to nurse.
At two years old, during a particularly challenging teething episode, my husband joked, “You realize you’re basically a human pacifier, right?” It struck me then that my child’s desire to nurse was more about emotional comfort than nutritional need. It felt like someone telling me to eliminate carbs from my diet—devastating!
The reality hit hard: I loved nursing, but I was ready to stop. I began to feel uncomfortable and restless during our nursing sessions. I reached out to my mom friends for support on how to ease the weaning process. My breasts had become mere pacifiers, and I was growing weary of the constant nursing. The bigger he got, the more self-conscious I felt about breastfeeding—especially in public or around family members with strong opinions.
At 2.5 years old, the battle over nursing intensified. I resorted to desperate measures to avoid nursing. After consulting a friend who is a lactation specialist, I tried to end daytime nursing gradually; that didn’t work. Nighttime weaning also failed. Now I find myself facing an option I never thought I’d consider: going cold turkey.
I’ve marked a date on my calendar—the day I will break my child’s heart. Armed with cabbage leaves in my bra and some lemon juice for good measure, I’m preparing for the showdown. I’ll wear tops that are difficult to access and brace myself for the inevitable protests. I’ve been told this phase should last about a week.
I cherished the bond of nursing, but I’ve come to realize that while I was once committed to it, I must also acknowledge that I’m ready to move on.
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In summary, navigating the complexities of nursing and weaning can be a monumental task for any parent. Embracing the emotional connections while understanding when to move on is crucial for both you and your child.