Lessons Learned from Weaning my Toddler
Tips for mothers who are about to wean their little ones.
I weaned my toddler at two years and three months. And what a proud moment it was, one filled with lessons worth sharing with every mom out there — whether one has breastfed for a month, a year, or longer. Below are some tips and tricks I learned along the way.
Go at your own pace
At first, I wanted to be like mothers who had weaned their babies at the one-and-a-half-year mark. I envied the courage and commitment they had and wondered why I couldn’t make it work. I felt like their success was such a mystery.
Time helped me realize that I didn’t need to be like anybody else. I just needed to respect my own pace, as well as my son’s.
I did find that 18 months of interrupted sleep had begun to take its toll — in my case, it was the question of dealing with mama meltdowns and bursts of rage I didn’t know I had and didn’t want to have. I knew I needed to ensure that I was a fit individual and get some help. Get some rest. By around this point, I had begun to feel an aversion to some sessions of breastfeeding (for me, that meant having to breastfeed my son back to sleep a couple of hours after bedtime), and was beginning to feel deep-seated exhaustion creeping in from having to wake up every two to three hours per night ever since the birth of our baby. It was time to take steps.
I hired a lactation consultant.
And through my sweet talk with her, I could spell out that I was okay with a certain number of breastfeeding sessions a day. Any more than that was driving me crazy. I was beginning to need space. She reassured me that weaning didn’t have to be all or nothing. Maybe reducing the number of feeds would lend me the sanity I needed. And indeed, keeping myself focused on this clear goal of having no more than four sessions every twenty-four hours was a season that made me so content, I didn’t feel the need to push for further progress for another six months.
Figure out which frequency of offering the breast feels comfortable for you and stay with that.
Picture Book
The lactation consultant also suggested that I create a picture book with my toddler. We were to illustrate the many activities we did on a given day and add in a picture of my boy breastfeeding, and another of him sleeping through the night with Mommy. The point of the book was the importance of sleeping through the night so that we could have the energy to do all those cool things again the next day.
This was such an enjoyable activity for my son and me. We drew a picture for each pursuit every day for close to two weeks. It also helped me remember the joy there was in getting out a paintbrush and splashing color on a sheet of paper.
Enlist help
A mother doesn’t have to go through weaning alone. I interviewed mothers who had enlisted help from their partners in a myriad of ways. Several had asked Papa to take her place for bedtime, in order to avoid boob time. The first days took more than an hour to get a child to sleep when a boob would have taken two minutes. But fathers helped. And everyone came through the challenge of change.
I decided to follow suit and ask my partner for help. Going with the advice listed in La Leche League, we didn’t want to take “Mom” out of the equation. Instead, N and I listed Papa for moral support. He stayed with us throughout the first naps without the breast, showering us with reassurances that it would be okay. Just his physical presence and his emotional support were enough to get mom and baby through it. And by Day Three, it had become the norm.
So do find a way to get help from your loved ones, and figure out which way they can aid you and baby in your weaning journey that can be unique to you.
Weight gain
As my little one turned two, and we managed to reduce to three, then two BF sessions a day, I noticed that I could no longer fit perfectly into my favorite pair of pants. I was still eating as if I were nursing a newborn. In my case, I was stress eating — munching on chocolate-coated wafers nonstop, chowing down on potato chips once the ritual of bedtime was over. Doing far fewer tummy crunches and proper exercise since he was six months of age.
Just a word of warning that once the magic of breastfeeding is gone, so is your ticket to potato chips not having any consequences. Try to be mindful of adjusting your eating and exercise habits as your breastfeeding journey comes to a close.
Talking to the lactation consultant wasn’t like waving a magic wand that could make this whole thing go ‘poof’ in one go.
Getting started on breastfeeding was considered a challenge for many. It was the advice of other mothers that prepared the way for me for this long-term journey. We were one of the lucky ones who didn’t have to go through a tough time. Yes, there were injuries, and my midwife did teach me about how certain kitchen supplies could remedy sore nipples — black tea bags or the wonders of sage, a tale for another post.
But no one had told me that I would also need help with an exit strategy.
It was not until my LO turned two that I started feeling a conviction to move things along to the final stages, without shocking me, my body, or our toddler too much.
In the end, I was glad to have gone at my own pace and strangely grateful that it had taken more than two years to get to the end.
I had read several articles about the drop in prolactin and oxytocin levels during the final stages of weaning, and how this could affect a mother’s state of mind. The prolactin (needed for milk production) induces a sense of well-being and calmness. The oxytocin, otherwise known as the love hormone, aids in the let-down of milk and inspires a mother to cuddle up next to her child. It is the power that rushes through human beings when lovers kiss or friends embrace. (There’s a lot to be said about why huggers are the happiest folks.)
It was good to go slowly. Towards the end, I had grown to become grateful for how long this journey had taken — how full and fruitful it had been for my little one and I. I had wanted to wean my son for such a long time and yet was shocked when I realized that four days had gone by since he had last breastfed. This was it. It was final. When it’s staring you in the face, your whole perspective changes.
I thought I would be excited when this happened. But when it finally did, sorrow was what I felt. That, and a bit of gratitude. For how we had hurried slowly, just like the saying that Madeleine L’Engle quotes in her novel, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, “Festina lente.” On Day four of zero boobs, I offered my breast again.
My boy and I could feel that it was the last dregs of milk available.
The reserves had dried up, this wellspring of life that had been all we had known for more than two years, day in, day out.
He gave me a quizzical look, and we gently discussed that there was no more. Another two days passed. I offered the breast again and at that moment, it hit me. I was holding my son back if I continued this tug of war. It was time.
My son and I had taught my body that it was free, no longer needing to produce this life-giving substance. In these past weeks and final days, my son and I had taught ourselves, together, that there could be just as many cuddles to be had for bedtime, just as much love and kisses. That there was life, a good one, as we ushered ourselves into a new chapter after breastfeeding.
