Self Weaning from Breastfeeding

A few days ago I wrote a post regarding one of the reality’s of baby growing up. I just wrote a quick post saying that my baby had self weaned and that I was missing it. Now I feel like I could have written more so I have. (thank you to those of you that left a comment to that post)

My baby is 19 months old. Up to 12 days ago I was still breastfeeding him. I loved it. He loved it. I thought we had many months to go still as he was having 3 feeds a day from me.

He was so cute. He would get the pillow I used to feed with and come up to me and climb up and hand it to me.  He would say, ‘Ta, Ta’ to me. If I ignored him the tears would fall down his little cheeks until I fed him.

I was proud. I was proud of myself and of us. I loved it when the Maternal Health Nurse congratulated me on our 18 month check up for our longevity in breastfeeding. I said it was all him and it was. I just did what he wanted and thankfully this time around I had no dramas apart from cracked nipples early on and leaking all the time. No biggies right? Especially compared to what some poor mums go through.

I was proud when my 6 year saw me feed his brother and wanted to know why I was doing this and how I was doing it and did I really do that when I was a baby too mummy? I also was proud when early on (when he was 5) he would lift his shirt up and pretend to feed his teddy bear .

I was proud I could feed him anywhere and everywhere. I was one of those mums that did not care who was looking, I just lifted my shirt and feed my baby where ever we were.

I was proud when people would ask when I was weaning him. I would answer, ‘when he is ready’

I guess I should say, I AM proud. Not was proud.

12 days ago at 9.30 in the morning I gave my baby boy his last ever breast feed. At that time I never knew it was going to be our last feed. I had no idea as leading up to this day he was demanding more feeds from me (I couldn’t figure out why?). I then went to the Aussie Bloggers Conference for 2 nights.

According to my husband, who was home looking after our two boys, he never seemed to miss it. I missed it while away. I missed them more but often I wished I could feed him. (especially when I saw the others mummy’s feeding their babies)

When I got home he never asked for it so I never offered it. At 19 months I knew that the end was nigh anyway.

The first few days after getting home, I felt like I had off milk inside me. I just felt sick. I just wanted to lie in bed and do nothing except watch chick flicks and eat chocolate. But I couldn’t. I just had to get on with it.

At the moment, I think I am still recovering from the hormonal changes. I really, really, really miss it. I miss him and I miss it. I try and still have cuddle time in the morning and a few times in the day so we still get our cuddles. Usually he is too busy and runs off to do something but sometimes he lets me just hold him. I just emotional and all over the place and have gone through many tissues just writing this post.

Now to focus on the positives, I am not tied to him anymore. I can drink alcohol if I like when I like. (that sounds bad but when you haven’t been able to drink for nearly 3 years it is a bit exciting for me and my girlfriends who are hanging out to go out for a grown up meal)

When I get those inevitable pre menstrual cramps I can actually have strong pain killers. I can wear normal bras and stop wearing breast pads!

See, its not all bad. (I’ll just keep telling myself that)

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image: davidcogh