I am breastfeeding. – Mother is finished

I would like to say that before I had children I was “normal”. I went to work. I wore beautiful clothes. I used to eat in restaurants. I went to hang out with my friends. I was about 30 years old. And then I had my first son.

He came flying in a car on the way to the birthplace. In the dark night, only the car was lit by my husband’s iPhone (pictured), I remember my midwife putting him on my chest, telling me that “the best health comes quickly”. I will never forget running down the highway, feeling his head caught between my underwear and my legs, I was too scared to let him out and show him to the world. My midwife came running, pulled her up and put her on my chest. We all sat in the parking lot for a while, laughing, crying, and fixing – all from fear and disbelief. We knew very well that night that he was going to be a special child.

He is special. As the first children do, she has taught me a love I never knew was possible and has shaped me into the woman I am today. He was not an easy baby. She had colic and relfux- she came into the world screaming and didn’t stop until she was nine months old. Breastfeeding was my way of stopping the madness, calming the storm, and allowing us all to rest. It was our way of coping.

When all the children in our playgroup were weaned, my little one was still getting stronger. I waited and wondered when he would decide to quit. I was eight weeks pregnant on his first birthday. I thought they would stop soon, when my milk dried up, and we made a peaceful transition to having a “baby” and a baby.

When his brother was born seven months ago, N was a little experimental in the new relationship. I let her breastfeed when she wanted for the first few weeks and then she started setting limits like all the books said. I didn’t want to be a nurse and I didn’t want to breastfeed. I was not one of “those women”. I cared about what people thought. People in my country did not breastfeed two children and they certainly did not breastfeed two year olds.

The past seven months have been amazing. The youngest arrived in the middle of the evening, peacefully at home, and could not sit still. My youngest showed a bit of jealousy…until this week.

The boundaries have been the same since his brother was born. We were down for breakfast in the morning, once at bedtime and once before bed – and all in less than five minutes. I would take her away when I was done- and usually I would have to get up and leave her seat and cry a lot. I was teaching him about boundaries.

If he hurts himself he can have comfort and if we have a hard time dealing with the problem (behavior related) sometimes he is allowed to breastfeed afterwards. I had full control.

And in all honesty, I was done. You are completely satisfied. I had a baby that I fed on demand, which was hard enough. But determined babies don’t just cry when they want milk. They ask for it by name. They mourn it. They are crying about it. He pulls down your shirt. Raise your shirt. They do this with clean hands, hands that have been digging in the dirt for an hour. They do it at home, and while you’re standing in line at the grocery store. Yes, I taught him “acceptable” behavior – but there are two of them. His job right now is to push boundaries and limits.

On Friday, he went to his brother who was sleeping and bit him. It was completely unprovoked and uncharacteristic. I collected myself, wiping away the tears of my upset mother, I tried to ask her calmly N what happened. What was in his sweet little mind? We were all happy as our little family of four. We battled a baby storm. The boys rolled on the floor together, bathing together. Why did he act so suddenly?

Then, as little kids do, N turned everything I thought I had on its head. “Alex a lot of breast milk,” she said.

“Alex got a lot of breast milk?” I asked.

“Yes,” she nodded with tears streaming down her face.

And as you have to do sometimes with women, I stopped the boat and turned it all the way back. I gave a thumbs up to all the books and articles I read. I said “redeem” to all the people I knew who thought it was crazy that I was breastfeeding my baby and I pulled her close.

We still follow the same feeding “phases” but I let her breastfeed as long as she wants. I look into his eyes, stroke his hair, and tell him that our time together is special (which I’m sure he hasn’t heard or felt since his brother was born). We’ve also moved the baby to his crib (for a little while) at night and now N has one during mommy’s nap time.

So in that one moment, things changed. I have changed. I’m breastfeeding and I’m not going to say that and roll my eyes and act like I wish she’d stop weaning. I won’t push him away or get up and leave when I know he’s headed for me. My son is special- he announced this on his birthday and he is his own person. My job as his mom is to love him every minute of every day and make sure he knows his needs are valid and acceptable. She is 26 months old and still needs to breastfeed. He has been using it as a comfort since the day he was born and will use it until he no longer needs it. I am his mother and I know what is good.