Before I had kids, I knew I would breastfeed. Before I had kids, I had a general idea of how long it was “appropriate” to breastfeed (weren’t we all so judgmental pre-kids?!).
When it was a major struggle (for BOTH kids), breastfeeding became a lot more personal and important to me. I didn’t expect to be so emotionally tied to it. But I was. At first I told myself, “I’ll breastfeed until a year.” When both kids went through nursing strikes that threatened that cold, I persevered. When that year passed, I thought “Well, they can wean anytime, but 2 years old would be nice. They say that’s better for babies and for me too.”
Neither of my kids were ever interested in nursing outside of set times. I don’t have a huge milk supply, so it’s not immediately gratifying. Aiden gradually decreased his feeds to just once a day, and when I became pregnant with Damien, he didn’t like the change in how my milk tasted, so he weaned himself at 23 months.
Damien is now 2.5. That 2 year mark has obviously come and gone. I wonder when I’ll be “not ok” with nursing my growing toddler. So far that hasn’t happened. 1-3 times a day I enjoy that moment of peace and that baby smell that still lingers. There is almost no milk left, but neither of us care. At nap time, this invariably happens. And it is the best moment of my day.
For just that brief moment, I get to hold my baby as he sleeps. It is perfection in every way.