The complexity of breastfeeding a toddler: A true heartfelt message I’ve decided to discuss openly. Though nervous of the backlash on both ends, I am not even sure why I want to share, and all I can come up with is that I just feel the need to be honest, because breastfeeding is not all butterflies and rainbows. Even so, this journey is so beautiful even with the issues I’ve faced, but always did my best to overcome with triumph. This was hard for me to put into words and try to explain. And if I’m being completely honest, the depths of guilt for thinking these thoughts or feeling the way I do almost seems unfair to myself, but it is my true and honest type 9 self. So with that, Please don’t compare my journey to yours or try to deflate this situation. Please refrain from saying, “it’s not that hard to quit, just stop” or “you’re being dramatic and making a big deal out of something that’s not worth it” If you could understand my beginning or maybe more so, take even a peek into my past postpartum depression and anxiety, you might get a glimpse of how important breastfeeding my child was in the most difficult moments of my life. My literal security blanket. My moments of closing the door and not being bothered with the world. Therefore even the slightest thought of weaning ruins me. Breastfeeding a toddler has strengthened me but also left me feeling taken advantage of. And so I leave you with my truth. Please, take it as just that.
Rocked you for over an hour now. The fan is on, the vent is closed. The blanket light, the door closed. The books were read. The white noise plays.
You’ve latched and unlatched too many times to count. And when you finally do fall asleep, I’m quick to lay you down and leave the room.
I feel as if I finally breathe out my tension and built up frustration as I shut your door. I need my body to just be mine for a moment and then I embrace my bare skin with scalding water, trying to wash away the “touched out” feeling so that I can prepare for you being attached to me once again in the middle of the night.
And then, Three times in one night I fall into your trap. You wake up and cry and I’m there because restful sleep has no place in my mind. I’m exhausted, but too tired to try and change our routine, so things stay the same because I know you’re at ease.
I fall behind on housework.
I find myself scrambling every morning.
My showers are short, my hair in multiple knots.
My memory is so very vague and lost.
My body drowning in unattended to tension.
I know I need real sleep, but I don’t think I realize how much.
Everyone…and I mean EVERYONE says, “do this… and do that…” But the advise is all misleading. It’s soul crushing and unfair to hear.
I’m here and I promise I won’t leave you.
My heart sinks and I cringe at the thought of my milk drying up.
My anxiety is high, and my tolerance is low. I don’t know if I did something wrong those first few months. But looking back, I didn’t have a choice. So Maybe all this time it was right.
I’m so frustrated and so torn, because I wanted this so badly. My fear is to see a bond break away and never come back. How will I ever forgive myself when You ask and I regretfully say no. But God…I. Just. Want. Rest. Baby boy, I am Not even sure who I am right now. And I wish you could could know me, The old me. The rested and determined me.
I’m not saying we’re stopping and I’m not sure if we will, but knowing I need to, is probably a good first step.
Still a good mom 