Weaning my first child from Breastfeeding

Besides informational content, I would also be remiss to not share parts of my motherhood journey that were real and raw. I hope my stories help you to find solidarity, hope, and a sense of not being alone in the similarities we share. 

Two years ago tomorrow (January 8, 2023), I ended a journey that my baby girl and I had been on for the sixteen months. I honestly didn’t know how much it would absolutely break my heart to end something that once gave me so much pain, confusion, and more questions than answers. After sixteen long months, my baby girl was officially weaned from breastfeeding.

When we started this journey, like many new moms, I was optimistic but honestly didn’t know how successful I would be. I kept a sample pack of formula in my pantry just in case we failed, but really hoped we would never have to use it. During those first two weeks, when my body was sore and aching, I wasn’t exactly sure how long this could last but I’m stubborn and since I decided I would be breastfeeding, I stuck with it. 

And in the month that followed, when my baby girl started cluster feeding day and night to grow bigger and stronger, my faith in my ability to continue wavered slightly but I held strong knowing that the time would be fleeting and I stuck with it. 

When my baby girl hit four months and her doctor was concerned about her weight percentile dipping far below what it had once been, I was nervous if my body could and would provide enough for her. I started pumping and bottle feeding my own milk in between regular feedings to get her weight up. For those of you who have been on any kind of pumping journey, not only do I applaud you but you know that this can definitely break you. I was almost broken. But at that next appointment, two months later, her percentile grew and she was back to growing “on track”. I knew in that moment we, her and I, could do this. 

Months passed as people asked how long I planned to breastfeed for and at that point I guess I hadn’t thought of when I’d stop. I just was pushing to keep going in the moment. So, I’d smile and say, "I don’t think I’ll go longer than a year". The months rolled on and she finally turned one year old. At this point, weaning her never crossed either of our minds, so I assumed I would just take it day by day. I was told she would "just wean herself eventually", so that had to be coming, right? Well, after she hit toddlerhood, she marched right back into cluster feeding, pulling on my shirt and screaming until I gave in every twenty minutes. This lasted a month. It felt like she was giving me a sign. A sign to say that she was not even close to ready and that our journey would not be ending soon. So, during that time, when I found myself looking at two lines on that magical stick telling me that we would be expecting a new baby in the months ahead, I was unsure just how much longer this journey could last. 

Several weeks later, when we went to my 8 week appointment to see if this pregnancy was in fact viable, I knew I would need to ask the question. When we found out all was well and that 32 weeks later I would be having my second child, I took a deep breath and asked. I was told that it was completely up to me, but that it would become more and more difficult to breastfeed the larger I got. My doctor also reminded me that unless I wanted to be tandem breastfeeding that I may want to start the weaning process as soon as I was ready. I knew she wasn’t ready and I knew I wasn’t ready. However, after much reflection, I decided it was best for us if we started soon as I knew we’d have a long way to go to get there. She was feeding every 30-60 minutes still. 

At first, she resisted but we eventually worked our way down to 6 times per day- morning, bedtime, and before and after each nap. At that point, I decided to wait until she started taking only one nap as I knew it was coming to cut out two feedings naturally. And when that day came, I knew I then would need to start making some tough choices. After four feedings, I cut it down to three and then two by giving her pea-protein milk (Ripple) before and then after her naps. She resisted HARD at first, but after a few days she accepted it as her new normal. This is where I was stuck. I absolutely adored our morning bonding time together before each day began, but I also craved holding her one last time before she went to sleep for the night.

Those were our special times, but I knew I would need to choose one. I chose night as I knew first thing in the morning I wouldn’t have the strength to follow through. So I went in my freezer, pulled a bag left from my stash and warmed it as my husband gave her a bath. I left the cup in her room and sat in silence downstairs as I could hear her cries for me upstairs. It almost broke me, but I knew we still had our special bonding time together in the mornings. 

She did adjust quickly after several days, but I knew the day I stopped breastfeeding her altogether was a day I was not ready for. So I told myself at 15 months I would do it, but that day came and went. Then, I told myself after Christmas. But that too came and went. So, there I sat, a day after she turned sixteen months and as I heard her waking just before 6 AM, I pulled myself out of bed and warmed another bag of frozen milk. I brought her to my bed as I did every morning and offered her the cup. She grabbed it immediately and began to chug. I was so relieved that this wasn’t a fight as I knew I didn’t have it in me...until she reached the bottom. She immediately handed me the cup, laid her body down in my arms and pulled at my shirt. This is when my heart broke in two. I almost broke. I almost gave in. But, I stuck with my decision and had her father go get more milk to fill up the cup. As she realized what was happening, she screamed. 

She cried and threw her body all over. Those were some of the longest minutes (probably only seconds). When he returned though, she calmed, took the cup, and continued to drink. This is when I broke down. This is when I couldn’t contain all the emotion (and definitely hormones) any longer. I balled and as she left the room with my husband to go happily start her day, milk cup in hand, I decided to write about this moment to remember.

I know everyone’s journey is different. I know many are not as lucky as I was to come out the other side of the breastfeeding journey this many months later. This isn’t to say that this way is somehow better than your baby being fed. Being fed is what is most important. However, it is a journey that I never knew I could grow to need just as much as my child. It was a journey I had no goals in making this long and it is a journey that at some point I wasn’t sure would ever end. I had no idea how hard it would be until sitting there in that moment, knowing that something my daughter and I had done together for sixteen months had come to an end. Knowing this was just the beginning of many phases that would come and go throughout her life was maybe what broke my heart the most. That day I felt a mix of heartache for all that is lost, but a sense of pride in all that was accomplished by her and I both. I stuck with it. We stuck with it.