My Toddler Is A Boob Addict

Children cling to their chosen comforter, be it a dummy, a blanket or a breast, like white on rice.

The Plan of Attack”Or Attach, In This Case

When I was pregnant with our first child, a friend asked me how long I planned to breastfeed for, ‘I’m hoping about 18 months I guess’ was my standard-issue response. I thought that was ok until my friend replied ‘Oh”¦ 12 months maybe?’ Not one to be put off by things I know nothing about (trust me, I knew zippo of breastfeeding babies), I launched into breastfeeding and was very grateful not to have any dramas at first.

After working out that 20-week old babies don’t really want to be held like newborns for feeding, and how to express some of my flow first so that we didn’t always have to lay down to feed, things were so much easier. Settling was easy, soothing was easy, comforting through needles and teething was easy. I loved it and my baby loved it.

The World Health Organisation encourages breastfeeding beyond 12 months, so why would I stop when everything was now going so well? And so we continued for three years!

If They’re Old Enough To Ask For It”¦

Then they probably shouldn’t have it? Really? I shit you not, another mother actually said this to me, through gritted teeth and in front of a group of mutual friends!

My then 18-month-old toddler had just patted the left side of my chest and said ‘Dat one pease’ (which was pretty darnn cute I thought) when she piped up with her super original comment. Mind you, as it was not quite said to my face, more looking elsewhere and eyes rolling the opposite direction as though she was doing a bit in a movie (probably the Sex and The City one that she swiped the line from), I’m sure she didn’t really mean to be hurtful or insulting. Actually, I’m crap at sarcasm. She meant every word, in that very way. Lucky for me, I was in a semi-circle of avid boobs-out breastfeeding mothers, some having difficulty, some doing it with no hands, so I put on my Teflon suit and let that crap slide right off.

Save The Date

Whilst I certainly agree there is a lot of pressure to breastfeed, I’ll delicately put forward, that there is even more, pressure to then stop breastfeeding by a certain age. That’s my feelings anyway. The usual suspects asked me repeatedly during our son’s second year of breastfeeding when I would be weaning him. Seemingly, my non-committal responses were unacceptable, as the demand for a date never abated. When I was pretty much over the Spanish inquisition concerning my son’s natural and normal ingestion of my breastmilk, I started saying things like ‘I had planned to, but I forgot to write it on the calendar’ or ‘I did, but then he had another feed, so I guess I didn’t’, rubbish answers like that. It’s not a waxing appointment for goodness sake, some things can’t be booked in, they just happen in their own time! Eventually, I came clean and admitted that I would be waiting until we could have a talk about it so that he might understand what was happening when something did finally throw out our balance. Until then, as we were both happy,  I wouldn’t be taking away a comfort (also nourishing and auto-immune boosting), that my son had known every single day of his life.

Tipping The Scales

Breastfeeding is a journey of mutual admiration, one which ends usually when one party no longer wishes to partake in the process and the balance is lost. Breastfeeding my toddler whilst pregnant was excruciating for me. I braced myself each time he was attached to my nipples, it was an agony that I felt from my breasts to my toes and yet I persisted, mostly because weaning seemed too hard to endure alongside morning sickness and breastfeeding would make my nausea disappear. I guess I clung to that for a while. I kept waiting for the day that he would say ‘No thanks, or yucky’ or just not ask at all. I could see that my milk had changed during pregnancy and I was waiting with baited breath for the ‘easy weaning’, it had happened to a couple of friends, and so I went on hoping, waiting and bracing. No dice.

Our second baby son was born as our first turned two and a half years old. Tandem feeding was fine, I knew exactly where my toddler was while I fed our newbie and though I was always hungry and thirsty, I could deal with that. It wasn’t long before our toddler stopped jumping up to join his baby brother for a feed. All seemed balanced in the world again. The scales tipped eight weeks in when our toddler became quite upset and aggressive in the mornings, one day yanking my shoulder back so hard that it pulled my nipple from my newborn’s mouth, he was second in line and absolutely devastated. I couldn’t stand to see our little boy so sad, and thus, the discussion began, oh my goodness I was actually weaning him!

Next Page: How to Wean Your Toddler