It had to happen eventually, I mean, I couldn’t breastfeed forever. I never ever wanted to be a mom that was still nursing my two-year old. I wanted to quit at a year but we didn’t make it that far. For a couple of reasons I thought maybe it was time. For starters he was still waking up in the middle of the night wanting to nurse. Maybe we could eliminate nighttime wakes if he wasn’t promised the comfort of a late night nursing session? He also wouldn’t nap without nursing and once he was asleep if he started to stir he would immediately search for my boob. If he didn’t find it? He would cry until he did.
But he loved to nurse and I thought I may never be able to wean him, he’s too attached. Plus, I would never commit. Until he started biting me. Of course that started happening early on with an accidental bite here or there, bearable. But the older he got the more he did it and still to this day he thinks its hilarious if I am startled and yell “ouch!” He was starting to use me as his own personal teether around 10 months. The instant he was offered a boob he would bite and you can imagine I was getting quite annoyed.
I was getting mad at my baby. So angry. “Why will you not just eat and quit biting me?!” I threatened to take away his nursing privileges several times, like he had any clue what I was talking about.
Then on a Sunday morning when he was ready for a nap, I started to nurse him and instantly let out a large string of curse words when he brought down those four sharp teeth on my nipple. Guy looked at me and told me to stop. Just quit – he will learn to live without.
So I did. That was the last time I attempted to nurse. He screamed and cried for every nap and every time he woke up at night. I rocked, I bounced, I patted, I waited. And eventually he went down without a fight. A week and a half, perhaps?
I didn’t think I would be sad when this time was over, I thought relief would be the feeling. But I have definitely been sad about this chapter ending. I can’t even really say why.
I spent two weeks in pain, the first week popping ibuprofen and icing my boobs with frozen bags of corn. Eventually it didn’t hurt anymore but I still had milk left. I didn’t feel the finality of it until I was finally dry. It’s over. I can’t go back now. He’ll never nurse again.
It was a long road of perseverance with him and all the issues I had getting him to latch at the beginning. It was a journey that we made together and are better for it.
Sher Bailey is a writer in the Midwest who believes the power of humor, Mod Podge, and grandkids can fix most problems in life. You can find her at SherBailey.com.