My Breasts are Mine Again

Three weeks ago I put Elle to bed. When she reached for my nipple I whispered to her, "Sorry babe, no more mommy milk. You drank it all." She signed, "Oh no" closed her eyes, and went to to sleep.

FREEDOM!!!

It worked. At two and a half years old, I finally got her off my boob. I thought about weaning her at a year, when I went back to work, but I liked the closeness of breastfeeding at the end of a long day apart. It's always been manageable for the most part, so it didn't bother me too much that she was still on the boob at two years old. Even though other moms, my own mother, and women without kids were telling me that I needed to get her off.

The worse part about breastfeeding was everyone else's opinion about how long I should breastfeed for. You'd think they'd be in awe of my steady milk production. Sometimes I'd want to snide back, "I can't help that I have such a young, and fertile body".

I'll never, ever, ever tell another woman what I think about her breastfeeding. We're hard enough on ourselves as women, as mothers. It's not cool to be hard on each other.

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