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On the very first day of lockdown, my son, who was 22 months old, nursed non-stop. I thought to myself, oh dear.
I had set a goal to breastfeed for a year—maybe 18 months at most. This timeline was influenced by the release of a book I co-authored that was scheduled for mid-2020, which meant I would be traveling without my son for several days at a time. Additionally, breastfeeding is quite demanding, and I wanted to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
However, by the time he reached a year, it was clear he wasn’t ready to stop, and oddly, neither was I. He was eating solid foods, so nursing wasn’t an every-hour occurrence anymore. Yet, my perspective on breastfeeding evolved. It transformed from a perceived obligation into an empowering and even political act—a way of making food with my body and asserting my reproductive choices in a society that often views extended breastfeeding as unconventional.
Yet, by 22 months, I yearned for a night off. I found myself gazing longingly at my neglected edibles and dreaming of sleeping in without interruption when my son woke at 6 am.
A couple of months prior to the quarantine, I had tentatively started to wean him. One morning he even forgot to ask for milk, which filled me with a whirlwind of emotions. I excitedly told a doula friend, “I believe he’s beginning to wean himself!” She responded with a chuckle, “Congratudolences!”
Then, the pandemic struck. Our routine, where my toddler spent two days at daycare and three days with my parents, was shattered. Suddenly, he was home 24/7, and all he wanted to do was nurse, nurse, nurse.
During that first week, he couldn’t believe his luck.
“Want to play with blocks?”
“No! I wanna nurse!”
“How about a bath?”
“Bath is silly! Nursing, nursing!”
“Maybe… let’s look out the window?”
“I don’t like windows! Nuuuurrrrssse!!!”
In the following months, he slipped back into old habits—nursing for comfort, rest, and solace. This was partly due to our constant presence at home and the lack of other exciting options, especially in those initial weeks when we were unsure if it was safe to go outside. Plus, being under two, he was too young to keep a mask on without trying to eat it.
I felt a sense of despair. I recognized the benefits of breastfeeding a toddler, and I knew I was fortunate to choose this path; many parents don’t have that luxury. I’d read that kids often self-wean between ages two and four. I know many incredible people who have breastfed their children for years. But how could I manage to go on the book tour I had envisioned before becoming a parent? How was I supposed to accomplish anything while working from home with a child constantly attached to me? And what about those edibles! When would I finally be able to enjoy them?
Yet, as time passed, my reasons for weaning began to fade. It became apparent that my 2020 book tour would be virtual. I learned how to create a workspace where my son wouldn’t see me and think about “mama milk.” Eventually, I discovered how to say, “You can’t nurse now, but you can nurse later!” in a cheerful tone that helped him wait a few hours. The appeal of edibles didn’t seem strong enough to justify cutting him off, especially since breastfeeding releases its own feel-good hormones. Did I really want to trade all that lovely oxytocin for THC?
Moreover, I realized that nursing was practical during our time at home. It became a tool for soothing, calming, and nap preparations, and even helped me steal a moment to check my phone while he nursed. It wasn’t just a burden; it became a useful strategy for navigating the pandemic.
As I began to accept that we might be nursing longer than I initially intended, my worries about weaning lessened. With no book tour or work conflicts, there was no rush to stop as long as we both continued to choose this path. On days when I wasn’t working, I began to look forward to his requests to nurse; in the chaos of the world, our nursing sessions became a genuine break. It’s hard to get up while nursing, so—if you can—you might as well let yourself relax. Eventually, I even stopped checking my phone behind his head quite so often.
Breastfeeding, in a sense, has taught me the value of patience. Nursing is not idle; it’s hard work! Your body becomes a source of nourishment, exhausting you even while you sit still. But the effort lies in the waiting.
This notion extends to parenting as a whole. Some of the most vital tasks—like ensuring a toddler doesn’t choke on a blueberry or watching their movements at the beach—might look like nothing to an outsider, yet they are fundamental to the job.
During these pandemic times, the ability to wait has become even more crucial for all of us, parents and non-parents alike. While the wait for COVID statistics to improve or the anticipation of a vaccine might be intense, the much lower-stakes wait for a breastfeeding session to conclude still carries significance. I’ve always struggled to breathe deeply and embrace stillness, but my toddler’s ongoing nursing has provided daily lessons in patience.
Now, more than a year has passed since I set aside my weaning plans, and my child’s third birthday is approaching. Will I stop? Will I establish a cutoff date? Will he naturally lose interest once preschool starts, when waiting and stillness become less integral to our lives?
I have no answers. For now, I’m choosing to embrace uncertainty, allowing these questions to linger and seeing where the wait leads us.
If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, you can check out this insightful blog post here and visit Make a Mom for authoritative information on this topic. For useful resources regarding pregnancy, the CDC is an excellent place to start here.
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Summary: The author reflects on their unexpected journey of breastfeeding during the pandemic, initially planning to wean their toddler before two but finding comfort and purpose in continuing to nurse amidst the challenges of lockdown. Through this experience, they discover the importance of patience and the evolving nature of parenthood.
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