So! Allow me to say, from the very start, that I breastfed all three of my older children for at least a year; indeed, closer to a year-and-a-half. But even having done that, for some insane reason, I got the idea in my head to allow this last baby to “self-wean.” As a result of utterly mad action, I am writing this blog for three reasons:
Three, because this was indeed either the best bad decision or the worst good decision that I have ever made!
Let’s get right into it…
OK, full disclosure: I know why I did it. No, I didn’t do it because “breast is best.” No, I didn’t do it because the World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding until the age of two. Honestly, I did it because this is the first time I’ve really felt like just a MOM!
This is the first time in my life that I wasn’t a single mom. This is the first time in my life that I didn’t have to rush my baby off to spend the day with someone else, all so I can get a check. This is the first time in my life where I can intentionally and completely focus on actively being a MOTHER.
For whatever reason, allowing the youngest of my four children to self-wean just seemed like what a good Mom, what THIS good Mom, was supposed to do. Tell you what, though: twenty-three months, three weeks, four days, and LORT knows how many hours later; I realize that allowing this little bossy, demanding, I-could-give-two-figs-about-your-needs-give-me-what-i-want-and-give-it-to-me-right-now toddler self-wean does NOT enhance my motherhood in any way, fashion, or form.
That said, I like that fact that I get to make that decision for myself; a decision not based upon the whims of my employer or the mores of society. None of them can dictate my choices as a Mom this time around—for better or for worse. So yeah, this is kinda like the biggest oxymoron I have ever encountered in my life—but, I guess that’s Mom life, right?
OK. That said, HERE’S WHY I NEED YA’LL’S PRAYERS!!! The good news is, as I said before, I am her answer to everything. The bad news is, I AM HER ANSWER TO EVERYTHING.
If she’s tearing up the house and she gets in trouble, she wants to nurse.
If she’s overly tired, and her laying down to take a nap feels like way too much work, she wants to nurse.
If she’s in need of some extra attention, for no other reason other than the fact that she’s the baby, she wants to nurse.
If she’s done with her brothers and her sister, she slams her parents’ bedroom door—and she wants to nurse (I plan to get her a sign that says #GetOverIt)
If she’s trying to escape the wrath and discipline of her Daddy, she wants to nurse.
If she’s not feeling me trying to work, or trying to write, or trying to do something outside of her, she wants to nurse.
If she needs a pacifier in the middle of the night, but an actual pacifier is too artificial—especially when she can smell the liquid gold—she wants to nurse.
If she realizes that we are in public and nursing is quite inconvenient right now, she wants to nurse.
If she decides that she wants to nurse, she wants to nurse.
Seriously, I need y’all’s prayers and intercessions. She is trying to control me. She shows no signs of slowing down whatsoever.
Yeah, I’m sure you’re thinking, “Well, just tell her no.” I hear what you’re saying. I understand fully what you are saying. And I mean this when I say—no, I can’t even fully describe it in words. Just go ahead and click play. You will see what happens when I say no to her and her divine right to nurse on demand. (Disclaimer—no babies were harmed in the making of this video. Watch all the way to the end)
Let me close out with this. You might not know, but it’s Black Breastfeeding Week. Many Black women haven’t yet found their voice regarding these matters. They have yet to own their choice to nurse as long as they want—and as long as their baby wants. I am sharing my voice and my choice with you. Yeah, I need your prayers. Yeah, my boobs need a break. But yeah, all jokes aside; I can guarantee you that I would never change one single moment of nursing until my toddler herself decides that she wants to stop.
Bottom line: do you, boo—and nurse these babies for as long as ya’ll both want! It’ll be either the best bad decision or the worst great decision you’ll ever make! Believe me, I know first hand—or first boob!