Last year as I sat down to write my son's 2nd birthday letter I was mostly thinking about how much longer our breastfeeding relationship would last.
He seemed to be weaning - most days were so busy for my little man that he rarely stopped to ask to nurse. I was convinced and dreadful that the end was coming soon.
So I'm happy to say that a year later at three years old he's still nursing - but not much.
It's funny to me how people expect weaning to be a quick process, full of absolutes - the end. While weaning in the first year of life must be done deliberately - as most mothers' milk supplies are abundant and a sudden stop can spell disaster for a mom (and baby) - the weaning of a toddler is on an entirely different plane of thought.
In La Leche League we talk about natural weaning - other term's I've heard used are child-led or baby-led weaning and mother-led weaning. They all have very different meanings. Child-led weaning is just that - the child dictates when he or she wants to wean - not taking into consideration the opinion of the mother nursing them. Mother-led weaning is also quite simple to explain - the mother decides when and how to wean the child.
Natural weaning is a gentle give and take process that involves the emotions and opinions of both mom and child and this is what works best for us in our family. Other families may choose a different option, but I believe both Wyatt and I should have a voice in this decision.
When I was about 9 weeks pregnant with Wyatt I found myself having to make a radical decision and wean Maddie abruptly. She was 15 months old and my heart was broken that I would not meet the goal I set for 2 years of breastfeeding. After experiencing a lot of abnormal pain and cramping early in my pregnancy an ultrasound revealed a
subchorionic hemorrhage and my doctor recommended weaning Maddie because nursing causes uterine contractions and he didn't want contractions to increase my chance of miscarrying the baby.
I went home and never nursed her again. I remember having to keep my distance lest she ask me to nurse. My heart was broken and I grieved for days and in some ways I grieve that loss still today.
One thing I constantly tell moms at the LLL meetings I lead is that I have experienced a profound difference in mothering toddlers when I compare the toddlerhood of Maddie who was not breastfed beyond 15 months and that of Wyatt who is still nursing at 3 years old.
Think about the tantrums, the frustrations, the owies and boo boos. Then think about having a secret weapon that would allow you to connect with your child on a primal level (because as
Dr. Harvey Karp puts it, they're little Neanderthals). There is nothing more soothing and satisfying to both mother and child than being able to solve almost any problem under the sun by nursing.
There have been many times when I've used this secret weapon - sometimes by choice and others out of necessity. There have been days that were just "off" - every little thing caused a tantrum and we've sat down or laid down and had some quiet time nursing and talking and the rest of the day just turned around.
I can't tell you enough how important nursing has been for the many owies that come with raising toddlers (and boys).
In October the kids and I drove up to
Ellijay, GA to visit our friends and adopted grandparents Harry and Elaine Heinisch. It was Sunday morning and we'd just finished church and the kids wanted to play on the playground there at the church. Maddie was on the swings and Wyatt was running around. You never see these kinds of things coming, but Harry was pushing Maddie on the swing and had just given her a big push and at the same moment Wyatt walked right into the path of the swing as she was on her way up.
It always happens in slow motion - but I felt terror and dread as I watched her connect with his little body. He flew up in the air, spun around and came down hard on a railroad tie. I guess in some ways I should be thankful that it was his head and not an area of his body less protected - an arm or a leg would easily have broken and I'm sure he would have had some internal damage had he landed on his abdomen.
It only took a second for the screaming to start and even though I was at a strange church in a strange down I did the thing that came to me most naturally (after deciding his neck wasn't in danger) and that was to grab him, sit down and nurse him. It wasn't easy - I was wearing layers plus an underwire bra, but I managed to get him latched on.
Instantly he stopped screaming and sobbing - his little body still convulsed with the aftermath of sobbing so hard - for a few minutes - but he calmed down.
Did you know that breastfeeding provides pain relief? It releases chemicals in the brain that relieve pain and bring comfort. So while many might have rushed to the hospital (I was told the local hospital wasn't that great of a place and the nearest "good" hospital was probably 20 miles away) - I instinctively offered him my breast to bring him comfort and pain relief.
That is probably the worst injury he's had to date - and he promptly went to see his chiropractor the next week when we returned home (and he was definitely out of alignment!).
These days our nursings are short and infrequent. He typically nurses the longest in the mornings and often at night he nurses for just a second or two before putting his cheek against my breast and going to sleep. There are times at night when he stirs (we're still co-sleeping) and asks for milk in his dreams and sometimes he'll nurse for 10 minutes as he slumbers.
Last night he was climbing into his chair at the dinner table, somehow missed the chair and connected his brow bone with the chair, fell down and rolled under the table. I scooped him up and we sat in our favorite chair in the living room and I offered to nurse.
He rejected my offer and asked for his pacifier instead.
I was floored! He had never once rejected nursing as a comfort measure. Surely this was the end I told my pouting self.
However after a moment with his paci he put his hand on my chest and asked for "mommy milk." I breathed a sigh of relief and put him to my breast. He didn't stay long, but laid his cheek against my bare skin and sighed.
So this relationship is no doubt coming to an end eventually. It might be today or months down the road. It is a long, sad goodbye for me as he's most likely my last baby. God only knows if we'll be blessed with another but for now the answer has always been "no."
I'm not holding on - forcing him to keep nursing. I'm just riding the ebb and flow of our beautiful relationship - knowing inevitably it will come to a close. I'll have fond memories and pictures to remind me how it felt to snuggle my babies at the breast and I'll miss that closeness that only nursing a baby can bring to a mother.
It's not time just yet to say goodbye, but the time is close at hand.
I will miss those moments and with sadness will leave my days of mothering through breastfeeding behind - carrying with me the many ideals and lessons I've learned as I venture into just mothering, without my secret weapon.
