Posted in Baby Foxes

The long road to weaning

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When people find out that I still breastfeeding the most common reaction is eyes popping out cartoon style in shock followed with a question about when I am going to wean, I always refer them to Shammy for the answer, they don’t always appreciate that.

To the horror of my family and some friends, I don’t see him weaning anytime soon.

But that doesn’t mean that the weaning journey didn’t already start. It actually started at close to 6 months when he had solid foods the first time, progressed further when I stopped pumping at work and continues at a pace dictated by Shammy.

At 15 months of age he’ll still nurse about 6 times per day on the days that we’re home all day. These are not the same as infant feedings, they’re much shorter and mainly for comfort. Plus then there’s what I call the “teases” where he’ll insist on latching on for 30 seconds and then move on to something else, I don’t try to count those.

Some people may be horrified at the frequency but I don’t mind and enjoy it most of the time because in this stage of independence and exploration this is one of the few times when I can get some quality cuddles in, smell the back of his neck or caress his arm.

Many times he’ll want to nurse “because it’s there” if he’s distracted or busy he won’t even miss them. And then there’s the times when it’s been a while and he sees me and will act like a junkie having withdrawals, it’s rather amusing.

With the evolution of our breastfeeding relationship come new challenges, I no longer have to deal with growth spurts related feeding frenzies but instead have to enjoy an acrobatic performance of gymnurstics and dance. This is very cute until Shammy miscalculates a step or loses his footing but fails to let go of my breast, ouch!

But truth be told, it’s also in no small part because I am too lazy to commit to weaning. It’s a battle I choose not to pick. Nursing is still the fastest way to get him to sleep, still the best way to get him to stop crying when he is scared or hurt. It’s a crutch, I will admit. He’ll let me know when he is ready by stopping on his own.

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Author:

White collar hippie, Pagan tree hugger and crunchy mama living in Florida with her husband and 2 sons. She works part time as a breastfeeding counselor, freelance virtual bookkeeper, and web designer along with homeschooling her children.

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