My Superhero Boobs Are Ready to Retire

I sent my partner to sleep at his office last night after receiving a close contact notification, and my nipples are not happy about it. Not at him, but at the situation itself. Our 6-year-old daughter is vaccinated, but our 3.5-year-old son isn’t eligible yet, so we’re doing our best to keep him safe. That’s why he still nurses before naps and bedtime, even though he’s now tall enough to ride Splash Mountain at Disneyland—if only he’d ever been to an amusement park. He has barely been outside our home for more than half his life.

At this stage, our extended breastfeeding arrangement is less about bonding and more about wrapping my child in as much protection as possible. I’d stop tomorrow if I could, but I’m holding on for those potential antibodies.

“Time for your milk medicine,” I say twice a day. My son laughs, I laugh, and inside, I weep. I never intended to nurse for this long.

Our Journey

Our journey has been challenging. Back in December 2019, my then 17-month-old son was evaluated by a speech therapist. He has lip and tongue ties along with a high-arched palate, which means the roof of his mouth isn’t rounded like most. While none of these issues are severe, they left his tongue too weak to properly swallow food. Even when I mashed or pre-chewed his meals like a mama bird (I know, I know), he still depended on breastmilk for half his caloric intake.

The therapist sighed as she watched him nurse, saying, “Oh, his little latch is so shallow; no wonder it hurts you so much.” So that’s why his sweet little lips felt like clamps? She gave us a range of mouth exercises to strengthen his tongue and jaw muscles and encouraged us to continue nursing until he was more successful with solids or chose to quit.

I sighed while spreading peanut butter inside his cheeks to help his tongue work better and had him blow through straws to exercise his lips. I wanted to wean, but he wasn’t ready. When Covid hit soon after, I thought, well, we’re already deep into this breastfeeding life, what’s a little longer?

The Emotional Rollercoaster

I didn’t anticipate the emotional rollercoaster we’d experience waiting for the vaccine for kids under 5. During the eight months between my first vaccine in March 2021 and my daughter’s in November, I consoled myself with the thought that my toddler was likely better protected than my older child.

“Milk is my superpower!” I cheered internally when my son crawled into my lap while I worked at the table. Maybe I’m saving a life today, I thought, pulling my shirt down after our evening routine of bath, story, and brushing teeth. He finally started eating solid foods and drinking fluids on his own. Soon he’d be vaccinated, and I’d be free. I held on, month after month, hopeful that his first shot would come by the end of 2021, allowing me to retire my boobs for good.

However, 2022 brought Omicron and more frustrating vaccine delays for the youngest kids.

Not Alone in This Journey

I’m not alone in nursing longer than I wanted during these pandemic times. With food insecurity, picky eaters, and toddlers facing challenges like my son’s, there’s also another major factor: access. With more parents working from home, the availability for breastfeeding increases, keeping the supply chain well-stocked. Plus, when you rarely go out, who’s going to judge you for nursing past a certain age? (Because, of course, no matter how you feed your child—formula or breast, 6 months or 6 years, discreetly or openly—someone always has an opinion.)

It feels incredible to think my superhero boobs can help my child, and I’m thankful I’ve managed to continue this long. But I’m so ready for the “milk medicine” to dry up.

Last month, while nursing, I heard that the first two doses of the Covid-19 vaccine for kids under 5 might be approved as early as March. I nearly floated out of bed with relief. Please, please, please, let me take my boobs off the menu. Then, just two weeks ago, we found out that the youngest kids will have to wait even longer—perhaps in two or three months they’ll get that first Pfizer shot, then another three months before they’re fully vaccinated. Or maybe Moderna will surprise us all. Who knows? Meanwhile, enjoy regular quarantines and missed preschool days every time a sniffle hits.

Last week, the country relaxed mask mandates. This week, I still have an unvaccinated toddler. At this point, my nips are just as cracked as the rest of me.

About the Author

Jamie Thompson is the author of The Wild Coast, a memoir of a nomadic childhood in southeastern Alaska. Her work has appeared in various publications including The New York Times and WIRED. She lives and writes on the land of the Séliš and Qlispé people. Follow her on Twitter @jamiesaurusrex and Instagram @jamiesaurusrex.

If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this other blog post. For those considering artificial insemination, Make a Mom is a trusted authority on the topic. You can also visit March of Dimes for valuable resources on pregnancy and home insemination.

Search Queries:

Summary:

In the midst of navigating extended breastfeeding during the pandemic, a mother grapples with the emotional weight of protecting her unvaccinated son while balancing the challenges of breastfeeding. Faced with vaccine delays and the reality of parenting amidst Covid-19, she reflects on her journey, expressing gratitude for the role her breastmilk plays in her child’s health but longing to retire her breastfeeding journey.