When I got pregnant, I felt quite ambivalent about breastfeeding. Like many, I thought we’d give it a go and if it worked for us, great. If it didn’t, I’d bottle feed. I dutifully joined prenatal classes that scratched the surface of how to do it and I bought nipple cream – but I also bought bottles.
My pregnancy had been plain sailing but at 32 weeks, my usually wriggly baby wasn’t moving at all. Right up until birth, babies continue to move regularly, so I knew this was a huge red flag. An emergency scan showed that my baby was extremely small and terrifyingly, there were concerns about my placenta, which wasn’t providing the support it was supposed to. Suddenly, the control I felt over my own body, pregnancy, and birth was stripped away.
At 37 weeks, I was induced and my baby was born vaginally, following a heavily monitored, but very active, positive labor. I spent our “golden hour” cradling my 4-pounds, 10-ounces daughter; small, but perfect. I put her to my breast and she latched immediately. I decided there and then that I wanted to breastfeed. In fact, it suddenly became desperately important to me.
A few hours later though, her breathing faltered, she became unresponsive and wouldn’t feed. The pediatric doctor told me that our daughter had sepsis and she was immediately whisked away to NICU. Seeing my tiny child in an incubator and having to ask permission to touch or hold her was devastating.
I still felt totally out of control, but nourishing her with my body was something I knew I could attempt. If nothing else, at least I could try to feed her. I sat for hours in NICU practicing skin-to-skin and being coached by her wonderful medical team on how to feed her. A week later, we left the hospital with breastfeeding fully established.
I think it’d be apt at this point to say that breastfeeding wasn’t super straightforward for us. Many mothers know that breastfeeding may well be “natural,” but that’s not to say it’s easy at all. The cracked nipples and blocked ducts are one thing, but the utter exhaustion and mental impact are quite another. I turned to some incredible resources to help me when I felt lost, including La Leche League and evidence-based Instagram accounts run by qualified lactation consultants, like Kathryn Stagg, IBCLC, and The Breastfeeding Mentor.
Experts Featured in This Article
Olivia Hinge, IBCLC, is a midwife, lactation consultant, and author of the book, “A Judgement-Free Guide to Feeding Your Baby: Boob, Bottle and All.”
As my daughter grew, I had arbitrary dates in my head as markers to stop breastfeeding, because that seemed to be what everyone else was doing. Six months, one year, 18 months – they all passed us by. It wasn’t until my friend mentioned “natural term weaning” to me that something clicked. It means to be led by your child and allow them to outgrow breastfeeding in their own time. According to the Association of Breastfeeding Mothers, children allowed to continue breastfeeding will typically self-wean between the ages of two and seven. We’re still feeding at two years and almost ten months, and I’m not planning on stopping until she wants to.
Typically, she feeds three times a day: on wake, before nap, and before sleep. She stopped feeding in the night by herself around her first birthday. She rarely asks to feed outside of these times, but if she does, I let her. She can feed anywhere, anytime. After almost three years, the act of breastfeeding feels wound into my being. It has quite honestly been the most beautiful and empowering experience of my life.
But not every journey works out like ours and isn’t as easy as choosing to continue or stop. The WHO recommends breastfeeding to two years old and beyond. However, in the US, only one in four infants is exclusively breastfed for six months. The UK has some of the lowest breastfeeding rates in the world, with eight in 10 women stopping before they want to. Sadly, so many mothers experience the trauma of trying very hard to breastfeed and not being able to.
Some women stop, however, because of societal pressure, and there are often stories of mothers being shamed for breastfeeding in public. It does make me feel as though breast isn’t actually best when a child reaches a certain age.
Lactation consultant Olivia Hinge tells PS, “How can we go from cheerleading people, encouraging them to breastfeed, even as far as criticizing if they don’t breastfeed, but then at the strike of midnight on their first birthday, we take all that away?”
Pushback breastfeeding mothers may hear in flippant comments from uninformed relatives, or buried deep in the comment section by an anonymous account is that breast milk past infancy is “pointless”. It’s not the case. Hinge explains, “There are health benefits which increase with longer durations of breastfeeding, but one of the most overlooked benefits to breastfeeding older children is how we can help support their emotional regulation.”
Children’s book author Zoe Ayre, who breastfed her child until she was almost 3, tells PS, “There have been countless times where nothing else would work to help my child feel calm, but breastfeeding helped her settle so well.”
As yet, I haven’t faced any pushback on my choice to natural term wean, at least, not to my face. Support from her network was also key to Ayre’s extended breastfeeding journey. “The total lack of judgment from friends and family helped cut out so much of the noise and negativity,” she says.
While writing this article though, I found it difficult to find women who were willing to talk about extended breastfeeding. One mother, who feeds her child at age 4, says she keeps it a secret. It made me feel sad.
To be clear, I wrote this not to say, “Hey, look at me!” But to let you know that it’s absolutely OK to breastfeed your baby for as long or as little as you wish. Whether you choose not to breastfeed at all, stop at 12 months, or choose to natural term wean, you should feel empowered within your body to stand with confidence and not let the influence of anyone else pressure you into making decisions around the way you feed your baby. It’s your choice.
Sometimes I look down at my daughter’s long legs and am struck by how fast time is going. She’s so different to the tiny bundle I first held in my arms, but breastfeeding her feels like a remnant of her babyhood that is sticking around a while longer; it feels very sacred. Ayre agrees: “When you’re holding your breastfeeding child in your arms, there is no one in the world who can tell you that isn’t a wonderful thing.”
I know my daughter will stop breastfeeding one day. But whether that’s today, tomorrow, or in two years, my choice is to let her choose.
Related: Chestfeeding: Why the Inclusive Term Is Important
Ella Delancey Jones is a freelance journalist who covers motherhood, parenting, societal issues, and the justice system for Stylist, Grazia, Insider, The Independent, and more. She’s also a copywriter and social brand director helping solopreneurs, agencies, and corporations get ahead of the game on social media.
